Saving Callie
by CallieJacobs
Summary: Callie runs away and finds herself in serious danger, and it's up to the family to find her. Post-finale. THIS STORY CONTAINS VIOLENCE! If anything triggers you, especially Liam-related topics, don't read. This is supposed to be a good read, not a reason for therapy. Not deathfic. T/M? This will run through January! I hope you enjoy! -AK
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Make sure to read everyone's point of view; they're all important to the story. Don't just skip to the Callie parts! :) Please review so I know how I'm doing!**

**C****allie:**

The road is racing under our feet, bits of yellow stripes being sucked up and spit out by our car. We're going so fast that I get dizzy when I try to look at anything in particular out the window, so after a while I just give in and lean back in my seat and stare at a point on the horizon. The view never seems to change. Green and yellow signs with exit information come and go, and for each one I find myself calculating how I would get home if I turned back there.

Home. The word stops me in my tracks. No, I don't have a home. The faster I accept it, the better.

Wyatt keeps glancing over at me, clearly worried about how I'm doing. I really like Wyatt. He's been nicer to me than anybody I've met outside the family since I came to live with the Fosters. But I can't like him in quite the way I want to. I know he wants me to explain why I hitched a ride with him, but I just interlace my fingers in my lap and stare out at the horizon. We only have to go a couple hundred miles before we're out of California. And once I'm out, I can tell him. Because once I'm out, I can't ever come back.

**18 hours later. **

**Callie:**

The world is completely black. Blackness, and pain. My head is spinning and I have just enough time to turn my head to the side before I vomit up everything in my stomach. My ribs are screaming. I have to lie flat and rest my head back on the floor. The retching has squeezed tears from my eyes and they itch as they trace slowly down the sides of my head. The smell of vomit is overwhelming, but under the putrid stench I can sense something else as well—sharp and musty and metallic. Blood.

My eyes are opening slightly but I still can't see. One of my eyes doesn't seem to be able to open at all. Out of habit I try to prop myself up on my right arm, but it's so excruciating I can't help crying out. I can barely lift it an inch off the ground before I realize something's very wrong. My whole arm is twisted at an awkward angle, and I can't seem to make it move properly. I lower it back down. I'm afraid now. I don't know if I should try to move anything else. So many parts of me hurt, I can't even fathom how badly I must be injured.

I close my eyes. My head is swirling. I try to make sense of this.

_My name is Callie Jacobs._

_I live with Stef, Lena, Brandon, Jesus, and Mariana Foster, and my little brother, Jude. _

_I don't know where they are. _

_I don't know where I am. _

_I don't know what has happened to me. _

The only thing I can come up with is the certainty that I have to get out of here. I try to raise my head again, and but something sticky is holding it to the floor, like glue, like Velcro. Slowly I lift my left arm, which seems to be working. I touch my fingers gingerly to the back of my head. The throbbing in my skull intensifies when I touch it. I can't see my fingers, but by the tacky feeling I know they're coated in dried blood.

I try to take a deep breath, but my ribs protest so hard that all I can manage are several rapid, shallow ones that aren't helping the panic threatening to burst my skin.

_Okay_, I try to calm myself. _Okay, you just need to think. You_ _need to figure out where you are so you can figure out a way out of here. _

I close my eyes and listen as hard as I can. There's nothing. Complete silence.

_Okay. You need to sit up and look around. _

I'm anticipating pain, but it's complete agony. I push up with my left arm, my right arm dragging uselessly on the ground.

My ribs are fire, and my breath comes out in a small squeak. I prop myself up on my left elbow and scan my surroundings

Nothing. The blackness cloaks the room completely.

No, wait. To the left there's a tiny strip of light, but it's gone so quickly that I wonder if it's just a concussion playing tricks on my retinas.

I wait, breathless, staring at the spot it appeared, and after a few seconds it comes on again.

It can only mean one thing.

A door.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Stef:**

I pour the rest of the coffee into my mug and lean against the kitchen counter. It's been 24 hours, and there's still no word from Callie.

I've been holding off as long as I can on filing the police report. I know what will happen if I do. Running away is enough of an offense to get any foster child's placement reassessed. For Callie, it's even worse. She's still on probation, and I know all too well that she is not allowed to leave the state. She knows it too, but if she was desperate enough to run away, I doubt that that will slow her down.

Those same feelings of helplessness and anger that I have been fighting so hard to quell wash over me again. Why would she do this? She seemed so happy two days ago when we told her we wanted to adopt her. She would have been safe, permanently. Now she stands a huge chance of going to a group home, or to Juvie. I wrap my robe around me more tightly at the thought. I picture her bruised face the night she came to us. I can't stand to imagine her back in that hell.

I hear a noise on the stairs, and Lena comes into the kitchen. She raises her eyebrows, hoping. I just shake my head.

She looks so sad. And underneath the hurt, and the anger, and the worry, so am I.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

It feels like I spend hours dragging myself across the room before I make it the few feet to the strip of light under the door. It keeps flickering as I get closer, and I realize what it is. There must be a television in the next room, the sound turned off or down so far that I can't hear it.

I'm sweating hard from the effort and the pain, but a new thought makes me feel as though ice water is coursing through me.

What if I can't hear the sound because this room is soundproofed?

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**Brandon:**

I barely slept. Every time I close my eyes, all I can see is Callie. Again and again I see her face, feel her soft lips pressing against my own. I feel my arms encircle her, marveling at how easily she fits into them, how warm she is.

But then it changes, and I see the tears in her eyes as she pulls away, her fear when Jude walks in on us.

And I hate him. And I hate myself. Because now she's gone, and I am more to blame than anyone.

I give up and kick off the covers. It's early but I know I won't be able to sleep any more. Ironically, I think Jude will be the only one in this house to get any real sleep tonight. My moms didn't tell him Callie had run away.

Again I wonder what he said to her. I know he was upset, and I don't blame him. Callie told me weeks ago what could happen if we got involved, how both she and Jude could get kicked out of the house. I didn't listen. And now they're both in danger.

I press the base of my palms against my eyes until mini stars burst across my vision. How could I have been so stupid?

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**Callie:**

I hesitate when I reach the door. If the door opens as I'm looking under it, I'll be seriously hurt. I'm pretty sure if I get yet another concussion, I could get some serious brain damage. Isn't that what they're always telling football players?

But what choice do I have?

I lower myself onto my stomach, biting my lip so I won't scream as my ribs hit the floor. They're shifting and cracking in a way that makes me sure that at least one is broken. I turn my head and press my eye to the shaft of light.

It's so tiny, I can barely see anything. But I think I see the bottom of a sofa. Then a shadow moves across my vision, and I realize it's a person.

It's large, and fast.

And I think it's coming for me.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Mariana:**

I've been staring at the ceiling for hours, watching the shadows make patterns as the sun comes up through the tree outside the window. I can't even look at Callie's bed. It's empty, the sheets and covers pulled back as though she's just gotten up to go to the bathroom. But I know if I touched it, the mattress would be cold.

I had no part in this secret. I didn't know Callie was going to leave, and I don't know why she left. But I've still spent 24 hours wondering how she was able to slip past me so easily. How could I not have woken up? If I had, she would still be here now. I know my moms are going out of their minds with worry.

I remember how possessive I was of my jewelry when she first got here. I thought she'd steal it or sell it. But I don't have to look in my drawers now to know that it's all still there. I know Callie now. She's a good person, and I thought we were becoming friends. She kept my secrets, and agreed to dance at my Quinceanera even though I know she didn't want to. When I hugged her at the wedding, she hugged me right back. Why in the world did she run?

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**Callie:**

My heart leaps into my throat, and I push myself away from the door as the shadow washes over me. I roll over to the side so the door won't hit me when it opens, and hold my breath.

But it doesn't open. The light comes back.

Slowly, heart pounding, I shift back onto my stomach and peer underneath the door again. I think someone is sitting on the couch. I can see the backs of a pair of boots under the sofa. They're big. Definitely a man's shoes.

I'm trembling now. When I first woke up I thought about calling out, yelling for help, but I know now that that could have been a deadly mistake. This man might be the one who brought me here, who did this to me. He can't know I'm awake.

Suddenly I hear sounds becoming louder. It's still muffled, but I think he must be turning up the volume on the television.

I'm glad. That will give me some cover.

I wait another moment to make sure he's staying seated. His shoes don't move.

I prop myself back up on my left elbow and try to get my foot under me. It takes me one second of agony to realize my ankle is broken. It won't support my weight.

What in the hell did this man do to me?

No. Bad idea. I do not want to know.

Footsteps are probably a bad idea anyway. I shift my weight onto my knee instead.

This is good. My knee works. I try the other knee, and it seems okay too. The pain feels more like it comes from my bruised flesh hitting a cement floor than from broken kneecaps. Slower than an infant, I begin to crawl around the outside of the room, my right hand hanging limply. I stay against the wall, going clockwise so that I can track where I am going with my left hand. I run my fingers over the smooth surfaces, feeling for anything that might help me. A partially inserted nail, the edge of another door frame, some workman's tools left on the floor.

There's nothing. I cover every inch of the walls. No windows. Just the one door. With a man waiting outside.

I wonder what he's waiting for.

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**Jesus:**

Kids look funny when they sleep. Like they've totally left their bodies and are off somewhere frolicking with unicorns in their dreams. Jude's pretty small when he's awake, but when he's asleep he looks like he's about seven. He's got on these funny little pajamas that my mom bought him. They have dinosaurs. If he's not careful he's going to get the shit kicked out of him, but he really likes the kid stuff. I'm guessing no one ever bought him dinosaur PJs before.

I can't help hoping he sleeps for the next three days straight. Maybe Callie will come back and he won't have to know she left him. He's going to be devastated.

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	4. Chapter 4

** Callie:**

This room is like a prison cell. I've been around the walls, I crawled from one side of the room to the other twice. Nothing. I stop in the middle and just collapse on the floor, trying to catch my breath. There's no task to do, nothing to be strong for, and my body just gives in. My eyes start to tear, and I shut them so I can think.

_Where is everyone? Why am I here? Where is here? Am I still in California?_

Wait…wasn't I going somewhere? I was. I was leaving California, even before I ended up here.

_But why? Why would I leave California? I'm on probation. I can't leave the state. If I did, I could go back to Juvie and Jude would be left alone._

My eyes fly open.

I was running away. I ran away for Jude.

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**Lena:**

Stef and I sit across from one another at the kitchen table, the phone between us. I know it has to be done, but I can't help staring at the phone like it has teeth. Stef is looking at me, and her eyes are so full of trouble I want to pull her to me and kiss her and tell her everything will be okay. But of course, I can't. Because the same questions that are haunting her are haunting me, too.

_Where is our daughter? And how will we get her back?_

I reach out and take Stef's hand. She clenches it so tightly our fingers go white. Then she nods at me.

It has to be done. And if we wait any longer, the court could deem us negligent for failing to file a police report. I would sacrifice my right arm if I could keep Callie out of Juvie. But I can't risk our other kids being taken away.

I take a deep breath and pick up the phone.

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**Callie:**

There's nothing to do but wait. I don't dare test the door knob to see if it's locked. If I do, the man in the next room could hear it and would know I was awake. So I just lie down on the floor, trying to avoid the vomit, and surrender to the memories that are rushing back.

Brandon. His green eyes are looking wistfully at me, as he tells me I'm beautiful, and smart, and kind. I'm leaning up to him, kissing him, and the sun is so warm and his lips are so sweet on mine, that I think I finally know what it is to be happy.

And then the hinge on the gate squeaks, and I jump back, and my heart breaks into a thousand pieces because of the way Jude is looking at me. I see all the horror and disgust on his face as he drops the trash bag he's holding and stalks past me into the street.

And then he's yelling at me. That I'm selfish. That I always ruin everything. That I'll ruin his life too.

And I know he's right. And I know I've ruined his life for good this time, because if I die here, he'll spend the rest of his life hating me, and hating himself.

I can't let that happen. I have to get home.

I try to remember every movie I've ever seen, every story I've ever read, every TV show I've ever watched. What would someone in my position do? No doubt they would have found a lengthy piece of rope in a corner by now for a trip wire. Or some matches to start a distraction. I don't have anything but the clothes on my back.

Wait. My clothes. Maybe I can use them?

I try to figure out what I'm wearing.

Jeans. A camisole. A long sleeve shirt. A bra. Underwear. Socks. And a jean jacket.

I open my eyes. A jean jacket is good. Jean jackets have metal in them. Buttons and snaps. Maybe I can use that. I finger the metal buttons at the collar, trying to figure out how hard it will be to tear them out, and then something cold shifts on my chest. I curl my fingers around it.

It's my necklace. The flat gold disk is about the size of a nickel and hangs on a thin gold chain. It was my mother's.

Maybe it can get me home.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note: Please continue to follow and review! Also, I do as much research as I can, so if you pause at the end of the final episode when Callie is talking to Wyatt, you'll see that she is really wearing these clothes and the necklace. :)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Jude:**

A quiet thumping sound breaks into my dreams. I roll over under the covers, and sunlight hits my face. It's really warm. Too warm. I open my eyes. The sun is shining really brightly and I can tell it's pretty late in the morning. Why didn't anybody wake me up? Did they have breakfast without me? If they've put everything away already, I'm not sure I'll get to eat before lunch. Jesus eats snacks all the time, but I'd feel bad asking.

I look around. Jesus isn't here. I jump out of bed and change into my clothes really fast. Jesus doesn't always knock, and I don't want anybody coming in when I'm not ready.

I can tell now that the thumping is coming from Brandon's room. He must have his head phones plugged into his keyboard. I think it's funny how music that probably sounds really good to him just sounds like a hammer to the rest of us.

I grab my textbooks and head downstairs. If I do have to wait until lunch, maybe I can read or something to pass the time. I wish I could play on the PSP that Connor gave me, but I never asked Stef and Lena's permission to take it, and even though I know it's wrong not to tell them, I don't want them to make me give it back.

The house is really quiet as I walk down the stairs. Where is everybody? Mariana and Jesus are probably hanging out with their friends and Brandon is upstairs, but where are Stef and Lena?

Wait. There's a man in the kitchen. I know his voice. It's Bill. My social worker. Why is he here?

My hands start to get sweaty, but then I realize what's going on and I immediately feel better. Bill must be here to talk about the adoption papers! I feel my smile get really big, and I want to punch the air over my head. I'm getting adopted! Callie and I, we're going to be Fosters now!

My stomach sinks. No. We can't be Fosters. Callie ruined it. She kissed Brandon.

I clench my fists. I can feel myself boiling all over again. _Why did she have to do something so stupid? We were going to be happy! _

I take a deep breath. I know I shouldn't have called her selfish. I know she's tried really hard to protect me. And I know she cares about me. I was going to apologize to her for saying that, but she was staying at a friend's house last night. I'm not sure who. I didn't think she had any friends besides Wyatt, and I don't think Stef and Lena would let her stay overnight with her boyfriend.

I wonder if Wyatt's still her boyfriend now that she's kissed Brandon.

I go down the stairs quietly, trying to listen to what Bill is saying about the adoption. But there's another voice, a male voice that I don't recognize, and it's saying:

"Filing a police report is required. You know running away is a violation of her parole, even if she was emotionally unstable because of the outcome of the rape trial."

My books slip out of my hands and hit the ground with a thud.

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**Callie**

_COME ON!_ My teeth are aching as they tug at the metal snap in my jacket. I think I've been at this for almost an hour, and I've only managed to get out two large buttons that were falling off anyways. I'm so, so lucky that this jacket is old. Nearly half of the buttons and snaps are ones I sewed in myself when the old ones fell out, or I doubt I would have been able to get any at all.

There's a terrifyingly loud ripping sound, and the snap comes out. I hold my breath and stare at the door.

Someone's turning down the volume. They must have heard me.

I rip the clasp off of my mother's necklace and use my left hand to wrap the chain around the metal snap, trying to knot it in place beside the two others and the metal pendant. A shadow moves across the door and I break out in a cold sweat.

He's coming.

I use my teeth to wrap the chain clumsily around the fingers on my left hand, securing the buttons and snaps over my knuckles so that the metal points stick straight out. I was trying to make a rudimentary set of brass knuckles, to help give my fist a more effective punch, but I know it's a pitiful excuse for a weapon.

The lock is clicking on the door. I lie down and pretend to be unconscious, but even though the light in the doorframe is blinding, I can see the man's silhouette through slits in my eyes.

And I've seen it before.

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	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: WARNING this chapter contains graphic material. If that upsets you, don't read. I love reviews, but please keep comments nice/constructive. Remember, this is only my second fan fiction story. I own nothing; I just write for fun. So read, review, and enjoy!**

**Stef:**

Everyone jumps at the loud bang on the stairs. I hold up my hand to ask the policeman to stop talking and move to the doorway. Jude is standing on the bottom step, staring at us. He's paper-white, and doesn't even seem to see me. I know he's heard us.

"Jude?" I go to wrap my arm around him but he moves away and trips, sitting down hard on the steps.

I sit down next to him, not touching him.

"Jude, it's okay. Everything's under control. The police are out looking for her."

That only seems to terrify him more. He looks straight at me, his eyes wide.

"What are you doing? You called the police? You'll get her sent back to Juvie!" He pushes himself up and scrambles up the stairs before I can say anything.

Even if he'd stayed, I don't have the faintest idea what I should say.

The policeman comes over to me.

"Would the boy know? Where she is?" He asks.

I shake my head.

"He didn't even know she was missing."

The policeman looks skeptical.

"Well, she must have asked someone for help."

"I don't know about that. Callie's pretty independent. And she doesn't have a lot of friends…"I trail off.

She does have one friend. Lena told me last week that Wyatt was moving away.

I wonder when he left.

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**Callie:**

I'm dead.

I should have known it from the moment I woke up here, but I didn't feel this certain until now. But I've seen that silhouette in a doorframe before, his dark shadow framed by the hallway light two years ago when I was lying in the darkness of my bedroom.

And the glint in his eyes looks exactly the same.

"You never were a good fake sleeper, Callie," he says loudly.

I keep my eyes closed. If there's even the slightest chance he'll leave me alone for a few more hours, I'll be as still as a body in the morgue.

Oh God.

His footsteps echo on the cement floor as he comes closer.

"The prize-fighter look doesn't suit you," he jeers.

Statue. I am a statue.

"Although the ripped clothes I could get used to. What, were you trying to make a rope ladder out of your jacket?"

His footsteps stop right next to me, and the bile rises into my throat again.

"Hellooo, Callie."

The toe of his boot nudges into my side and the pain must register on my face.

"Ahhh. There we go," he says quietly. "This didn't have to be so painful, you know. You didn't have to fight. But then," he crouches down and puts his mouth close to my ear, and his breath is hot and terrible, "I always did like that about you."

As quick as I can, I roll towards him and lash out at him with my wrapped fist. It connects with his left eye, and for a second he jerks back and clutches his face. But before I can crawl two feet, he's yanked me back and he's punching me, over and over again, and my head is singing and my forehead is wet and before I pass out, I thank God that I won't have to be awake for what comes next.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam**

I roll back on the concrete floor, panting hard.

So good. She is so good. Even unconscious, she's like nothing I've ever had.

I look over at her in the light from the doorway. One of her eyes is swollen shut, and the other is closed. It's too bad. She has such pretty eyes. Deep brown and warm, but with that intoxicating, animal fear she gets when she's cornered. That fear I saw in her eyes the first night we were together.

The memory makes my body tingle. I reach over and pull her jeans and underwear all the way off from where they're caught around her ankles. I pull her legs open, ignoring the blood, and prop myself over her, my hands on either side of her head. I run my eyes down her body. The large blood stains on her shirt match the smaller ones on my own. Slowly, gently, I lower myself down onto her again until the two stains meet.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Please keep reviewing! I have a lot of ideas about where this is headed. Let me know if you like it!**

**Brandon:**

I hit the keyboard so hard it shakes, and I tear off my headphones in frustration. My piano teacher told me I needed pain to play the way the best pianists do. If this feeling in my chest is what it takes to be a good pianist, I want no part of it.

I sit for a minute, waiting for the feeling in my chest to loosen up. But I'm so angry that I want to hit the walls.

I hate her. She didn't have to kiss me. She didn't have to run. I would have done anything to make this right; I would have taken the secret to my grave, I would have moved out, I would have stayed away from her…

My thoughts stop racing.

_Would I? Would I really have stayed away from her? Didn't she try to tell me to stay away from her weeks ago?_

I love Callie so much it actually hurts. But wherever she is, she's hurting too now, and it's because of me.

Someone starts shouting downstairs and I look over at the door, wondering if Jesus was using his skateboard in the house again. Then someone's running toward my room, and the door bursts open. Jude rushes in and slams the door behind him.

"_You_." He says, and he's literally shaking with anger, "this is _all your fault_!"

"Jude," I say quietly, trying to calm him down.

"No; you listen," he lowers his voice to an angry whisper, "If you hadn't done that, she would still be here."

"Jude…" I try again, and my voice is so pleading that I hate myself even more.

"We were going to get _adopted_," he says, his eyes shiny with tears.

"You still are," I tell him, but he looks at me with so much hatred that I stop talking.

"No, we're not. Callie ran away. They're going to send her to a group home, or jail. And I won't see her until she turns 18. If the other girls don't kill her."

Jude turns and leaves my room, slamming the door behind him. I can hear his door slam too, and from the muffled sounds in his room I can tell he's crying into his bed. I don't get up to comfort him.

I'm the thing he needs comfort from.

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**Callie:**

I can't move. My head is filled with static and I'm so sore that moving a centimeter feels like I'm being torn apart. The only sound I can hear is my blood dripping from my forehead onto the cement below my ear. My mind is hazy, and every tiny splash is magnified so that it sounds like each drip is a water balloon bursting next to my head.

Behind my eyelids, my eyes are filled with static too. I try so hard to open them, but it feels like someone has placed gold coins on top of them, like a mummy in a tomb. They won't budge.

I can hear a door open, and my body floods with terror. I'm in such bad shape that I know it's useless to even try to fight. Liam's footsteps echo off the floor, and my head all but bursts at the noise.

Liam doesn't say anything. I hear something clunk on the floor next to my head, and hear a small splash before more moisture soaks the back of my shirt. There's a plopping sound as Liam places something into the bucket of water, and then something warm and wet is on my forehead, wiping away the sticky blood and leaving me cold.

I feel something smooth and freezing against my skin, and there are sharp ripping sounds before I feel the rough denim of my jacket fall away from my arms, leaving me exposed.

"No more weapons, baby girl," he murmurs, and he trails the washcloth down my arms. His touch is gentle but I can't help crying out from the pain as he jostles my right shoulder. He continues, running his hands down my legs, and I realize for the first time that they are covered by a rough blanket. And beneath the blanket, my jeans are gone.

Tears of fear and humiliation course down my cheeks as I realize what he's done. Again.

Slowly, Liam pulls down the blanket and runs the washcloth over my exposed thighs. The tiny hairs on my body are standing up as the warmth of the water fades away, leaving me chilled.

I can't move. I can barely breathe. Liam makes his way down my legs, before gently placing his rough lips against my stomach.

"Next time, don't fight." he whispers. He kisses me gently on the lips.

More water sloshes from the bucket as he picks it up and leaves the room. And as the door shuts behind him, the only clear thought in my head is that I want to die.

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**Mariana:**

I'm using my legs to push me back and forth in the old swing in our yard. Through the window I can see the adults in the kitchen. I don't know one of the men, but the other is a cop, like my mom. Lena has her hand over her eyes, and I bet she's crying. Stef is moving her hands a lot, which usually means she's arguing. I wrap my hands tighter against the cell phone I'm holding. It's Callie's. She left it here when she ran. I wish she'd taken it with her. She might have needed it.

I swipe my thumb over the screen to unlock it, and scroll through her text messages. I know there's nothing in there. Stef already looked. I go into her photo library. There are so many photos here. She loves taking pictures.

The phone begins to vibrate in my hands and I almost drop it. The screen lights up. It's a text message:

Wyatt:

Did you get home okay?

Oh my God. I click the "Call Back" button on the text screen and the phone begins to ring.

"Callie?" It's Wyatt's voice.

"Wyatt, no it's Mariana. Don't hang up!" I say desperately. Wyatt hasn't been too fond of me since I got drunk at his party and he had to walk me home.

"Mariana? Where's Callie?"

"Callie isn't here, Wyatt. She's missing."

"WHAT?" Wyatt yells so loud I have to hold the phone away from my ear. "She should have been home last night!"

"What are you talking about?" I'm clutching the phone so hard my hand is going numb. "Have you talked to her recently?"

"I was with her until yesterday afternoon. She tried to get me to take her to Indiana. We drove for six hours before she said she'd made a mistake. I dropped her at a bus terminal. She should have been home before midnight!"

My heart is racing now. "Are you sure she was getting on a bus?"

"Absolutely! I watched her buy the ticket. If she wasn't going home, she never would have spent the money. She would have needed it."

He's right. Before I know it I'm off the swing and running for the house.

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	8. Chapter 8

**Jesus**

Lexi and I are supposed to be watching an Iron Man movie, but I'm not paying attention to a word of it. It's not my pill, I took that. It's that I see that man, alone and cold with his weird glowing heart, and I think of Callie.

My pocket turns green and starts buzzing and people turn to look at me, annoyed. I ignore them and fish out my cellphone to see who's calling. It's Lena's number.

I run down the aisle and push through the theater doors before I answer.

"Hello?"

"Jesus? You need to come home."

"Why, is it Callie? Did you find her?"

"Not yet. Mom needs to go down to the police station and I want all of you home. Something might have happened to Callie."

My stomach turns into a knot. I swallow.

"I'll be right there."

Lexi's still in the theater, but I don't take the time to tell her anything. I'm already through the exit.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

My body feels like it's collapsing in on itself. Every breath is torture. I can feel the different parts of my body calling distress codes to each other, but there's no one to help them.

I'm going to die here, on a cold cement floor.

I picture my family, imagining the face of each person I love.

Stef, her warm eyes crinkling as she smiles at me, as she tells me things that no one else has ever told me; that I'm not disposable, that I'm not worthless. I wonder what she would say if she could see me now. I've never been more used, more disposable, more worthless in my entire life.

I see Lena, her beautiful hair piled on top of her head as she leans towards Jude and me where we sit on the couch, the look in her eyes as she tells us that we deserve a home, and that she wants it to be with her. My nose begins to run again, which isn't helping my efforts to breathe.

I picture Jesus, who cracked so many jokes to relieve the tension; whose love and protectiveness towards his family made me love him. Mariana, who smiled when I asked her if it was okay to join her family. Who hugged me so tight, a real sister hug, at her mothers' wedding.

Brandon. Brandon with his warm eyes and his delicate fingers, who played beautiful music and told me that I mattered.

Wyatt, who saw me, an outsider, and loved me and made me his friend.

Jude. My beautiful, special, wonderful Jude. Who held my hand when bad things happened and told me he loved me every day, just in case I went away like our mother did and he didn't get a chance to say it again.

I try to say goodbye to them. To tell them I love them. That I'm sorry. That there's nothing else I can do.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jude**:

It's evening when I wake up. I must have fallen asleep.

My face feels sticky and I touch my cheeks. I must have been crying. Why was I crying?

That's when I remember.

Callie ran away.

Callie was raped.

And now I know exactly who did it.

Tears start rolling down my cheeks again.

People are knocking on my door. I tell them to go away. I don't want to see anyone. The only person I want is Callie.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

It's really quiet now. The door is closed, and I can't hear the television. The room is completely dark again.

When I was little I realized that darkness isn't all the same. Even in pitch-black it's like some areas are blacker. The areas where, when you're a kid, you think animals are going to come out from at night and eat you.

I don't really mind the darkness now, though. The thing I'm afraid of comes with the light.

I use my left hand to tug the blanket up to my chin. My left wrist hurts almost as bad as my right arm now. I'm freezing; my whole body is shivering, and my heart is going so fast, like a hummingbird's. I try to pretend the blanket is bulletproof, magic, impenetrable. It will protect me from any more harm.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	9. Chapter 9

**Stef:**

We've been looking at these tapes for hours. My eyes are getting dry because I've been trying so hard not to blink. I don't want to miss anything.

I threw on my uniform and headed for work the moment Mariana handed me the phone and Wyatt told me what had happened. I called my boss on the way in, and she helped me pull the security tapes for the bus station near us. Wyatt is sure Callie got on the bus where he left her. That means that whatever happened to her, happened over here.

I'm about to pour myself another cup of coffee when Mike yells my name. I drop the pot, spilling coffee everywhere, but I don't even notice. I run over to him and look at the screen where he's pointing. My heart lifts. It's Callie. The picture is a little grainy, but I'm sure it's her.

"Can we track her?" I ask. My mouth has gone so dry I have to clear my throat and repeat the question.

My boss nods. "There are dozens of cameras. Pull up the ones near the side exit and fast forward them to the same time stamp."

We do. One by one we let the tapes play until we spot her again. This time she's outside the terminal, carrying her duffel bag. The tape is stop-motion—the camera takes pictures every three seconds—and a moment later, there's someone else in the frame.

Picture. A man is talking to Callie.

Picture. Callie is trying to walk away.

Picture. The man is grabbing her arm.

Picture. The gym bag is on the ground. The man is pulling Callie out of the frame. She's whipping her head around, maybe hoping someone will help her. But it's nearly midnight. There aren't many people on the street.

Everyone is quiet, their eyes trained on my face.

I clear my throat. "Was there a report of a disturbance in that area last night?"

Mike is already typing into the computer. He nods.

"A couple walking their dog reported a car nearly hitting them in the crosswalk. There's a partial license plate in the report."

He shows it to me. I look back at the images of Callie with the young man.

"Pull up the auto registration for every member of the Olmstead family."

Mike types something into the computer again. I don't wait for his confirmation. I'm already halfway out the door.

"Stef!" He's motioning me back. I pause. "Look at their property holdings."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

My mind is flying over the world, like it's going to the third star and straight on 'til morning. I wonder if that's where you go when you die. It must be better than here, right? I try to think whether I've done enough bad things in my life to go to Hell for. I've done a lot. I spent years lying like it was a religion. I stole food, for Jude and for myself. I stole other things, like clothes we couldn't afford. We were on our own. I had to do it.

A memory comes back to me, soft and far away, like a dream. It's my mother, and she's holding me in her lap, rocking us back and forth in that old rocking chair she loved. Dad's out at the bars, so it it's just me and her, and Jude asleep in his crib. She's smoothing my hair as I fall asleep, and singing words to me, like a lullaby.

_My feet they are sore, and my limbs they are weary;_

_Long is the way, and the mountains are wild;_

_Soon will the twilight close moonless and dreary_

_Over the path of the poor orphan child._

_Why did they send me so far and so lonely,_

_Up where the moors spread and grey rocks are piled?_

_Men are hard-hearted, and kind angels only_

_Watch o'er the steps of a poor orphan child._

_Yet distant and soft the night breeze is blowing,_

_Clouds there are none, and clear stars beam mild,_

_God, in His mercy, protection is showing,_

_Comfort and hope to the poor orphan child._

_Ev'n should I fall o'er the broken bridge passing,_

_Or stray in the marshes, by false lights beguiled,_

_Still will my Father, with promise and blessing,_

_Take to His bosom the poor orphan child._

_There is a thought that for strength should avail me,_

_Though both of shelter and kindred despoiled;_

_Heaven is a home, and a rest will not fail me;_

_God is a friend to the poor orphan child._

We had to memorize a poem once, in seventh grade. I picked that one because I already knew all the words. But I got an F. I was crying so hard I couldn't recite it.

I close my fist around the necklace, which Liam didn't bother to rip from my hand, knowing I was too weak to fight anymore.

Maybe my mom can guide me home.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note: poem by Charlotte Bronte. Sbz, I definitely plan to keep going through everyone's response to the trauma. If there's still interest, I'll keep posting. Please keep reviewing! I love hearing from you guys.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Lena:**

The three of us are sitting in the living room, not saying anything, just holding hands. Jude is still in his room. Brandon offered to sit outside his door in case he needed anything. Mariana and Jesus are on the couch across from me. Her head is resting on Jesus' shoulder, and his arm is around her. Even though they've been our children for so many years, they still have a bond with each other that no one else can touch. I can't help but think about Jude, and how this is what he will lose if something happens to Callie.

The phone rings, and I let go of Mariana's hand as I lunge for it.

"Hello?"

"Lena?" It's Stef's voice, and she sounds rushed. "Lena, I found her. I know where she is. We're on our way to get her now."

My heart is racing so fast I actually have to put a hand to my chest.

"Where is she?"

"Liam Olmstead took her."

I can feel my face draining of blood.

"Get her back, Stef." It comes out as a whisper.

"I will, love. Keep the kids with you."

Mariana and Jesus are watching me, their eyes scared.

"What should I tell Jude?" I ask Stef.

"I don't know. I'm not sure exactly what he knows about what happened with Liam."

I close my eyes.

"Okay. I won't tell him anything until we know more. Call me as soon as you find anything Stef."

"I will, I promise. I love you."

My throat closes. It sounds like she's saying goodbye. The last time she went into a house with her gun drawn, she almost died.

"Stef…" I can't get the words out.

"Lena, I'll be fine. There's only person who might get shot tonight, and it's not going to be me."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

It takes me a while to realize that there's a new sound in the room. It's coming from me. I've been humming the words of my mother's song. I'm completely losing the world now. I can feel my heart beat slowing down.

_I'm not cold anymore. It's actually really nice._

My chest thuds.

_There are lights on the ceiling now. They're pretty. _

I wait for my heart beat, but it doesn't come. Instead, the world disappears.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam:**

I smile as I hear Callie singing in the next room. She sounds happy. Maybe she's realized that it's time for her to give in. Maybe she even liked it.

I turn off the TV and get up from the sofa. My hand is throbbing and I need some ice. I head up the stairs to the first floor of the empty house my parents are fixing up. They'll rent it out when it's done, but for now there's nobody here. I guess I've sort of adopted it.

I fish some ice out of the freezer and shove it into a plastic bag, then grab a beer out of the fridge.

I can't help smiling when I think of the people who will move in here. People who will put furniture in that basement, and wonder what the stains on the floor are from. People who will never know Callie, or just how amazing she really is. No one can ever know that. Not the way I do.

I take my beer and the ice and turn to go back downstairs when I catch sight of something out the window. There are red and blue lights flashing about a quarter of a mile away. I freeze, watching as they get closer, until I'm sure. And then I turn and run, out the back exit, into the yard, and into the night.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Stef:**

I'm out of the car before Mike has pulled it to a complete stop. There's a light on. I motion to Mike and the other officers to cover me. Quietly, I test the doorknob. It's locked.

I kick the door in.

We fan out, Mike and I on the first floor, the other three upstairs. I head straight for the kitchen, my finger itching on the trigger. If I see Liam hurting my baby, I won't have the slightest hesitation.

All my senses are on high alert. I approach the kitchen, where the light is coming from. There's a hum, and even before I see it I realize the refrigerator door must be open. That will be a problem if he ducks behind it. Refrigerators are bulletproof.

I slow beside the doorway, my gun in my right hand, my left hand supporting it. I scan my surroundings again and turn my head to peer around the door frame. I can only see part of the kitchen from this angle. Mike comes up next to me and nods. I turn and wheel into the kitchen, skirting around the refrigerator door. There's nothing there.

I leave it open, so the sound of it closing won't alert Liam that we're here. On the other side of the kitchen there's a red door. I motion Mike towards it. We stand on either side, as before. He quickly jerks it open as I keep my gun pointing straight at it.

I'm pointing my gun at an empty wall. Below me, concrete stairs disappear into a room that I can't see.

Slowly, noiselessly, we edge down the stairs, pulling our flashlights out as we go. We get to the bottom and listen. There's no sound on the other side of the door. I cross my flashlight under my gun and kick the door open. We whip around from side to side, casting the small beams of light across the room, but aside from some furniture the room is empty. There's a sofa, a small television, and several empty beer bottles. Next to the television is a small plastic bucket, and when I look inside I have to force myself to remain calm.

The water is red.

I swallow and move forward. A string hanging from the ceiling hits me in the face. I roll it between my fingers. It's an old-fashioned chain, the kind that attaches to a light bulb on the ceiling. I pull it and the room is bathed in a dim yellow glow.

Directly across from me is a door. And it's padlocked shut.

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	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: I got a bunch of reviews and requests for an extra chapter tonight, so here's a bonus! No more until later though. :) And just a reminder, make sure to read everyone's points of view, it's critical to the story...**

**Liam:**

I'm all the way to the beach before I stop running. I sit down on a rock to catch my breath. I need a plan. A way out.

_I can't go to my parents' house. The police know it was me; they'll probably get there before I do. _

_Almost all of my friends are college friends, and they don't live around here. _

_ATM withdrawals can be tracked. _

_I don't have nearly enough cash._

My hands clench. I could kill the police for interrupting my time with Callie. I didn't think they would find her so fast. Last night she admitted that she had been running away when I found her at the bus station.

I was supposed to be picking up my grandmother there. Running into Callie was the best surprise of my life.

I called Nana a few hours later while I was watching Callie sleep and apologized for forgetting to pick her up.

She was very understanding.

Callie never did tell me _why _she was running away, though. Maybe something happened at her new foster house. The one with the tree.

And then it hits me. I know exactly how to get what I need.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Stef:**

I don't have time to wait for police-issue bolt-cutters. I run back up the stairs and grab the first heavy object I can find. It looks like a stone carving of something, maybe an angel. I haul it back down the stairs, where Mike is calling Callie's name through the door. He moves away when he sees the statue, and I bring it down on the padlock as hard as I can once, twice, three times until the whole lock comes out of the door. I kick my way in and my heart stops.

My daughter is lying on the floor. And she isn't moving.

Mike runs upstairs to summon in the paramedics who followed us here, and I collapse on my knees next to Callie. I want to begin doing chest compressions on her, but she's so covered in blood and bruises that I hesitate. It looks like her ribs are broken and if I start compressions one of them could puncture her vital organs. I pinch her nose shut and adjust her airway.

Breathe. Pull back. Breathe.

Her lungs inflate when I breathe, deflate when I pull back. There's no sign of life. I touch her sternum, position my hands, and begin compressions, wincing as bones crack under my palms.

I count off thirty compressions and do two more rescue breaths. I feel someone's hand on my arm. It's Mike. The paramedics are here, trying to take over. I don't want to, but I sit back as they put a mask over her face and defibrillator patches on her chest.

The machine comes to life, shocking Callie's body over and over again. One of the paramedics is squeezing the Ambu bag they placed over her mouth and nose. She looks so small, her eyes closed, deathly white, her brown hair matted and dark with blood. I sit back on my heels, watching, as the paramedics lift Callie onto a stretcher. Mike takes one end so that the other paramedic can keep squeezing air into her lungs. I push myself to my feet and follow them, but Callie's arm slips off the stretcher and it's hanging at an angle that makes my stomach twist. The blood on it is smeared, and fainter than it should be. The paramedics are taking off the grey blanket she has over her and are replacing it with a special silver one that preserves body heat.

I get a look at her body and my spine goes cold. Callie's clothes are shredded. She's a bloody mess from the waist down. There's smeared blood all over her body, like someone tried to wipe her down. I connect it with the bloody water in the bucket.

And then I'm out in the garden, throwing up until there's nothing left inside me.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jude:**

I don't want to be here anymore. This house is the best place I've ever lived, but if Callie isn't here, I don't want to be here either. I go to the closet and pull out my backpack. Maybe if Callie doesn't go back to Juvie, she'll just get sent to a different foster home. One that deals with high-risk kids. And if that happens, maybe they'll let me go too. I'm older now. I can learn to protect her. I'll die before I let anyone hurt her again.

I know it was Liam. We had so many bad foster families, but the only house where Callie and I had our own rooms was the Olmstead's. I remember listening through the wall, hearing the sounds of them in bed together. I thought she was doing it because she wanted to. I hated her.

Remembering it makes me want to climb back into bed, but I have to be strong. I can't be weak if I'm going to help her. I take my clothes out of my closet and put them in my backpack. I have more of them now, but I can still fit most of them in the bag. I go over to the desk and pick up the PSP that Connor gave me.

Something in the yard catches my eye. It's moving.

I turn off the desk lamp so I can see it better. A man moves into the light from the kitchen window. He looks up, and for a second he just looks at me. Then he smiles.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Brandon:**

I don't hear any more crying coming from Jude's room. I tried to go in a little while ago when I heard that he had started up again, but he just yelled at me to get out. I stand up slowly, stretching out my legs which are cramped from spending so long sitting on the hallway floor. I know I'm not the best person to be trying to help him, but Mariana needs Jesus, and it's all Lena can do to keep herself from jumping in that car and going after my mom.

I knock on Jude's door.

"Jude?"

There's no answer.

"Jude, I'm coming in."

Still no answer. I open the door and my eyes go wide. Jude's curled up in a corner, trembling.

"Jude, buddy, what is it?"

I crouch down next to him and he doesn't try to push me away. And that's when I know that something is very wrong.

"Jude?"

Jude looks at me, his lips white.

"Liam."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note 2: I also had a request to put the POV labels on the left margin. Does it help you keep better track of who's talking? Or do you prefer them centered? Please let me know, and keep reviewing! I seriously love hearing what you guys have to say. **


	12. Chapter 12

**Jesus:**

"Mom!" Brandon's voice makes us all jump. Lena runs upstairs, the phone still in her hand.

There are muffled words as she and Brandon talk for a second before she yells, "Jesus! Mariana! Get up here!"

I look at Mariana, and my anxiety is mirrored on her face.

We run upstairs, almost falling over each other. Lena looks terrible. She throws the phone to me and says, "Call 911. Tell them a someone is trying to break in."

I start to dial but Lena moves past me to the stairs.

I grab her arm.

"What are you doing?"

She pushes me off.

"I'm locking the doors. Jesus, make the call!"

I dial 911 and toss the phone to Brandon, who looks more scared than I've ever seen him. Next to him, Jude looks like he needs an exorcism. He's white and sweaty and trembling, and I think his eyes are starting to roll back in his head.

"Mariana, catch him!" I yell, and I turn and head down the stairs as Mariana dives for Jude.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Mariana:**

I try to carry Jude back to his bed but he's too heavy so I lower him gently to the floor and put a pillow under his head. Brandon's still on the phone with the police.

He puts his hand over the mouthpiece and looks up at me.

"She says to barricade the door."

"What about Mom and Jesus?" I ask him.

Brandon just looks at me, and his eyes are full of pain.

"What about Jude?" He replies.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

There's something bright. It's so different than anything I've ever seen. It's the purest white, and it's blinding. I can hear something too, and I think it's coming from the light, but then the voice says my name and I'm confused.

Callie…Callie…Callie…

Is that my mom? Is this heaven?

Wait, this can't be heaven, because something's happening to my body, and you don't have a body in heaven. There's electricity running through me, and my chest feels like it's going to explode.

The light fades, and I want to scream for it to come back. Pain wraps back around me like a vise, and a groan escapes me.

Oh God, I was too loud. Liam! Liam's going to hear that I'm awake and come back and find me. I try to move, to pull myself up and leave before he comes back, with his terrible breath, and his grunting, and his hands that touch me everywhere.

Something in my chest explodes in pain and I hear a fast pinging sound, and I smile inside as I slip back into the light, where no one can find me.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

I've locked the back door, the front door, and every window I can find when I hear someone coming up behind me. I pull a knife out of the kitchen drawer and turn around.

It's Jesus. He raises his eyebrows at the knife, his eyes wide.

I lower it.

"What are you doing down here?" I hiss at him.

"Did you really think I was going to leave you to fight some raping psychopath on your own?"

I bite my lip. I have the best children in the world.

And I need to keep them safe.

"Where are the others?" I ask Jesus.

"Upstairs, on the phone with the cops. I think they're moving the beds in front of the door in my room. Jude fainted."

I look up the stairs, torn between wanting to go up and help him, and completing the job I have down here.

"Are all the windows locked?" I ask Jesus.

He nods. "Everything on the first floor."

I nod back, relieved, and pull my cell phone out of my pocket.

"I'm going to try Mom again," I tell him. I type in Stef's number and press the call button, but a thought hits me and I freeze.

"What about the second floor?"

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**Stef:**

The ambulance is overly bright, highlighting every bruise and cut on Callie's face. She looks like she's been in ad for domestic violence. I don't think I've ever seen anyone this beat up, and I've been a cop for fifteen years. I hold her left hand gently in my fingers. I've been saying her name for miles trying to get her to respond.

I jump as Callie's heart monitor pings, and the paramedic nods at me, confirming that she's back. I close my eyes and say a thank you to whatever forces brought her back to me. But as quickly as she came back, she's gone again, the bumps and valleys of normal sinus rhythm turning back into a flat white line.

There's a panic in my chest that's threatening to consume me. Callie is so far gone, I don't know if I'll ever get her back. And if I do, I don't know how long she hadn't been breathing. If it was longer than a few minutes, she could be severely brain damaged.

My phone is buzzing again, and I realize that I still haven't called Lena. I go to take my cell phone out of my pocket, but the paramedic shakes his head at me. No cell phones.

"It could interfere with the defibrillator." He tells me.

I turn my phone off. Nothing could be more important than this.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam:**

I step on the seat of the swing to give myself a boost up into the tree. I know Jude saw me by the expression on his face. It doesn't matter. All I need is to get inside.

The bark of the tree is rough, and the knuckles on my right hand are still aching. The skin around my left eye is still puffy from the cuts Callie gave me. I have to smile a little when I think of that tiny, stupid weapon she tried to make out of her clothes. She really is a little fighter.

I'm almost to the top of the tree now. I'm sure they've already locked the doors. Good thing Callie likes Instagram. She told me the perfect way into her house.

I've watched this family before. I'm certain Stef, the cop, was with the police who came to rescue Callie, so only the other woman, Lena, will be here. With so many kids in the house, Lena will give me anything I want. Enough money to leave town. A promise to send Stef and the cops in the wrong direction. She was at the rape trial; she knows what I'm capable of. Mothers care about their children.

And she has a lot of children to be scared for.

I make my way carefully to the edge of the branch and lean over to the window. Holding on to the thickest part of the branch, I reach out my foot and hook the toe of my boot on the windowsill. Slowly, carefully I slide the window open.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Note: I have two for you guys tonight! Please review!**

**Brandon:**

The 911 operator says the police are on their way. She says to keep the phone connected so I set it on the desk as I help Mariana push the furniture in front of the door. Jude is still unconscious. I grab a blanket from the bed and throw it over him.

"Does he know? About Liam and Callie?" I ask Mariana.

She just shakes her head. "I don't know. But he must have had some reason to faint. What did she tell you? About Liam?" She asks me.

I don't know exactly what to say. I know that Mariana knows Callie was raped. I'm not sure what she's asking.

"He was nice to her," I say finally. "He made her feel special. And he took advantage of that."

Mariana raises an eyebrow at me, and I freeze in my tracks. Is she saying what I think she's trying to say?

Am I like Liam?

Is that why Callie ran away?

"You're not him," Mariana says, startling me, "you never raped her."

I can't even look at her.

"No, I never raped her. But I hurt her. Badly."

To my surprise, Mariana comes over and hugs me.

"It's going to be okay."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jude:**

I'm lying on the floor. Why am I lying on the floor?

Brandon and Mariana are talking.

About Callie.

"I hurt her," Brandon is saying.

What does he mean? How did he hurt Callie? The only person who I know for sure hurt Callie was Liam.

_Liam!_

"Where is he? What's happening?" I sit up so fast I get dizzy.

Brandon and Mariana break apart and come over to me, trying to make me lie down again.

No way. I have to get up.

"We have to help her!" I cry out, trying to push them away from me.

"Who?" Mariana looks confused.

"Callie! He's going to hurt Callie!" Why don't they understand?

Brandon's trying to hold me down but I'm kicking him, over and over again until he lets me go. I get up and run to the door, to find her, to warn her, but the beds are blocking it and I can't get out.

I try to push them out of the way but they're too heavy. I look at Brandon and Mariana, who are just standing there watching me.

"Help me move them!" I say desperately.

They stand still, and I just break down and sob.

Mariana comes and puts her arms around me and guides me away from the door.

"We're going to be safe here." She tells me. I rest my head on her shoulder, my tears staining her shirt.

What about the others? Where are they going to stay safe?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jesus:**

Lena and I look at each other and turn to run up the stairs. We're at the top when we hear a noise coming from Callie's room. There's a thud, and Lena whispers:

"Jesus. Run."

I shake my head, gesturing to the door where Mariana, Jude, and Brandon have barricaded themselves in. I can't leave them unprotected. I can't leave Lena unprotected. This is my family.

Lena looks at me, her eyes begging me to go. I squeeze her shoulder and hold out my hand for the knife.

Lena shakes her head.

"No way. I am not going to let you live with murder on your conscience." To my surprise, she sort of smiles to herself, as if she's remembering an inside joke. "And if anyone is going to die tonight, it's not going to be me," she says wryly.

I nod, but I'm not really sure what she means.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

There's no more light. The world is dark again, and I'm lost in a haze of pain. I want to die. Why won't they let me die?

There's something on my face. I try to move my hand so that I can reach up and rip it off, but the most I can do is twitch a finger.

Someone's hand picks up my finger and curls it in their own. Their touch is gentle.

"Callie? Callie, can you hear me?"

I try to open my eyes, but it is so hard. I can see a slit of light, and it's too bright, but it's not the same light I saw before. It's not the light I wanted. This light is sharp and cold.

The voice is warm though. It's a woman. I think I know that voice.

Wait. She asked me a question. I have to answer her. I try to make a sound, to tell her I can hear her.

But I can't.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam:**

It's almost funny how easy it was to get into Callie's room. I don't know why I didn't do this before. It would have been so easy. Even easier than taking her at the bus station. And all that took was my hand on her mouth and a quick blow to the head. This would have been like stealing candy from a baby.

I land on the carpet and look around. I know immediately which bed is Callie's. I wish I could stop and lie down on those sheets, smell her pillowcase. Her hair didn't smell the same today as it did two years ago. That natural sweet smell was hidden by all the blood.

No matter. I'll take a pillowcase to go.

I pull the switchblade out of my pocket. It still has tiny denim threads wedged into the handle from cutting off Callie's clothes.

I bite my lip, remembering the sound of the blade, the pieces of fabric falling off so easily, revealing her soft skin. I remember the feel of her thighs, her moans as I washed her. If only she was here right now. In her bed.

I shake my head to clear it. It's not time for that now. My watch tells me it's been nearly four minutes since Jude saw me. No doubt the cops will be on their way.

I look around the room to see if there is anything else I can use.

My eyes find their way to Callie's pillow again, and I smile. The cop has a gun, but I'm sure she has it with her. The only other weapon they could have is a knife. I pick up Callie's pillow and stuff the pillowcase in my pocket. I grab a hard toss pillow in my left hand and steady my switchblade in my right.

Show time.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	14. Chapter 14

**Mariana:**

Something is happening. I can hear Lena and Jesus outside the door. I don't know why they aren't barricading themselves in Callie's room. I want to call out to them, to tell them to hide, but I don't dare. Something is very, very wrong. And I don't want to make it worse. I sit on the floor by the closet, next to Jude. He looks terrified, but it's a different kind of terror than I've seen on him before. He looks like he's stuck in another place, another time.

"Jude, tell me," I say quietly.

"It's my fault," he whispers. He's staring at nothing.

"What's your fault?"

"I'm the reason Callie ran away. I caught her with Brandon. I yelled at her. I told her she was selfish. I thought she was going to get us kicked out, like she did with Liam."

He turns and looks at me, and he sounds about a thousand years old.

"I think she tried to tell me. About what happened with him. But I was so mad at her. I thought she wanted it. I thought she had a crush on him. I didn't know he…he…"

Jude breaks down in my arms, and I hug him close.

I don't know what to say. I look at Brandon, and he has tears running down his face too.

"It's not your fault," I whisper.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

I can hear footsteps in Callie's room. Every muscle in my body has tensed, watching, waiting for the man behind the door to come out.

There's only thing running through my mind, and it plays through my head again and again as though it's on autoloop.

Not. My. Kids.

There's a thud, and I look at Jesus, begging him to leave. He could still get out of the house. He shakes his head again.

"The police are here, asshole!" He yells, and I grab his arm, my eyes wide.

"I know what I'm doing," he whispers.

The door bursts open and crashes against the wall so loudly that I jump.

Then someone massive is coming at me, and all I can see is the knife in his hand.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Stef:**

As soon as we got to the hospital a team of doctors wheeled Callie into the OR. I tried to come, even though I know I can't. But she heard me. I know she did.

I stop at the water fountain to rinse out my mouth and splash some water on my face. I know I have to give my statement soon. The other cops are here too. Mike comes over to me, looking angry.

"Liam got away."

"WHAT?" I shriek so loudly that the whole waiting room looks up. I barely notice; this doesn't make any sense; Mike has to be wrong.

"He wasn't in the house."

"Then where the hell is he?" I yell at Mike.

Mike reaches over and hugs me.

"Stef, we'll get him," he says into my hair. "But for right now you just need to worry about your family."

That reminds me. I still haven't turned on my phone.

"Can you stay here? In case Callie's doctor comes out to talk to us?" I ask Mike.

"Of course," he says. I hit the power button on my phone and head outside. It's gotten cold, and I'm glad that my uniform jacket is heavy. The phone boots up.

7 missed calls from Lena's cell phone.

I don't understand. I told her I would call her when I knew anything. I hit the voicemail app and start to listen.

And then I'm running into the hospital, screaming for Mike.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Brandon:**

I'm still trying to push the desk in front of the doorway, sweat pouring down my temples, when I hear sounds on the other side of the door and freeze.

Jesus is yelling in the hall, and I know he's not yelling at any member of our family. As fast as I can, I push Mariana and Jude inside the closet as far as they will go, and put my arms out to protect them. Mariana's crying into the phone, begging the police to get here. I don't know what they're saying to her, but she just starts crying even harder.

It's been almost five minutes since we called. Why aren't they here yet?

I feel sick. There are scuffling noises, thuds and yells, and then there's a scream, and I think it must be Lena's. I want to yell for her, to run to her, but I can't.

The scream stops.

And now there's someone outside our door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note: Please keep reviewing; your comments make me want to keep writing! It's been lovely reading what you have to say. I'm glad people are enjoying it!**


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: It's that lovely time of year again. I'm headed back to school (and seriously y'all, pray for me, because I suck at school). If you're still interested in the story, please keep reviewing and I'll do my best to update frequently!**

**Jude:**

It's like when I was little.

Screams and thuds and yells in the next room.

Callie would climb into bed with me and hug me so tightly, like she was trying to become a turtle shell on my back.

Mariana has an arm around me, the other hand holding the phone to her ear. I can hear the cops telling her to breathe. The police will be here in a minute.

My heart hurts. I wonder if another one of my mothers is lying in the next room, dying.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam:**

The kid may be ripped, but he's six years younger than me, and probably a foot smaller. It only took a couple punches to lay him out.

I didn't kill him though. That would have made things complicated.

I kick his unconscious body to the side, and turn to the mom. She's sweating, and blood is dripping down her arm from a cut I gave her. The knife she was holding is embedded in the pillow I took from Callie's room. I knew it would come in handy.

I take the knife out of the pillow and put it in the other hand. I'm doubly armed now. The mom looks terrified, her brown eyes huge. She's standing in front of her son, who's going to be out for a while.

"This doesn't have to be hard," I tell her, calmly. "There are three things I want. And then I'll go. Nobody gets hurt."

She nods.

I smile at her. "Good."

"What do you want?" She asks, her voice husky.

"Money. All of it. And fast. If I'm still here when the police come, I'll happily kill every person in this house."

She goes into another room, which must be her bedroom. I hear some clicking, and in seconds she's back with a pretty sizable wad of cash. I stick it in my pocket.

"What else?" She wants to know. She's eyeing the knife in my hand, but she isn't crying. I like that about her. She's a fighter. Like Callie.

"Keys to your car," I tell her. She motions me downstairs, and I see her looking over my shoulder at the kid lying on the floor.

_Mothers._

"Come on, hurry up!" I grab her arm and she trips, clutching onto the banister for support.

"They're on the counter," she tells me. I scoop the keys out of the ceramic bowl they're resting in.

"Last thing. When the cops come, you tell them I told you I was going to the Mexican border. Got it?"

She nods.

"You know what will happen if you don't?"

She nods again, fear and anger flitting across her face.

I smile a little at her.

"You're a lot like her, you know,' I tell her. "Callie. She fought me too."

She makes a small noise, like someone's strangling her.

"What—what did you do to her?" She stammers.

My smile grows huge. I can't resist it.

"Everything."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Stef:**

I have been with the San Diego police department for 15 years. Every year they come out with reports detailing our annual statistics. Ours came out last month. And that is how I know that because of budget cuts, our average police response time in the area has been extended from 7 minutes to 10 minutes. And it only took 30 seconds for Liam to take Callie.

The sirens are on and the lights are reflecting blue and red on everything we pass. The streets are nearly empty this late at night. But it feels like it's taking forever to go the few short miles from the hospital to my house.

I take everything I'm feeling, all the anger and the worry and the sadness, and I shove it into the smallest box and throw it out the window. I cannot be a mother right now. My babies are in danger. And they don't need their mom.

They need a cop. With a gun.

I make sure mine is cocked. Mike looks over at me.

"We'll get there, Stef."

I don't acknowledge him. I already failed one child today, and she's on the operating table.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jesus:**

My eyes open and I groan slightly. My head is pounding. Am I sick? I'm lying down. Am I in bed?

No. I'm on the floor in the hall. Why am I lying down in the hall?

Someone's moving downstairs. I can hear the click of my mother's heels. I reach out and grab the bathroom doorknob, pulling myself to my feet. I hold on tightly and muscle myself into a standing position, waiting for the dizziness to go away.

There are heavy footsteps now. Someone's down there with Lena.

I start to walk toward the stairs when I trip on something soft. It's a pillow. I look down at it, and the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. There's a long, jagged gash right down the middle. The kind that could only come from a knife.

_A knife_.

It comes rushing back to me—Liam charging with the knife in his hand, catching the knife my mom was holding in the pillow he was carrying and twisting it out of her grasp. I kicked him in the stomach but he was too fast for me.

And now he's alone with my mother.

Quickly I grab the pillow from the floor and hold it in front of me. If it blocked my mom's stab at Liam, maybe it could block Liam's stab at me, too.

I can hear them talking now. Liam's saying something, something about Mexico. The police aren't here. Why aren't the police here? We called them ages ago. Didn't we? How long was I out? It feels like an hour, but I guess it could have been just a few seconds.

I move closer to the kitchen. My mom sounds like she's crying. I feel like I'm going to explode. If he hurt one hair on her head, I'll kill him. They're moving into the living room now. Maybe towards the front door? I move down the last stair and freeze. I can see Mike inching his way into the house. He sees me and puts his finger to his lips. I point in the direction of the voices. Mike nods and motions for me to stay put.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	16. Chapter 16

**Liam:**

I'm out the front door before I see the police car parked in the driveway. Its lights are off and there was no siren. How did it get here so fast? My friend Tom told me there was a break-in at his parents' house around the corner from here two weeks ago and it took the cops almost fifteen minutes to show up. I've been here less than ten. I take off, heading for the other car in the driveway, the car keys in my hand. I have to get out of here _now_.

I'm opening the door to the driver's seat when something hits me in the back of the head, and I feel myself fly forward into the metal doorframe. I can't see anything, I just fall to the ground, and then I feel something heavy on the small of my back. My arms are wrenched up behind me and metal cuts into my wrists.

Oh, _shit_! I try to throw the person off of me and stand up, when I feel something cold and hard against the back of my neck. There's a clicking sound, and I know what it is.

"Try anything," the woman says, "And I will bury you."

I stay still.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Mariana:**

It feels like we've been like this for hours. Terrified, cramped, listening helplessly to the thuds and yells and footsteps. I've stopped begging the people on the other end of the phone to come. I just hold Jude to me as tightly as I can, and my tears fall on his wet cheek. Brandon is standing in front of us, holding the lamp from the desk in his hand.

Suddenly there's a loud banging on the door. Brandon and I jump, and Jude throws his arms around my waist so tightly he nearly snaps me in half. Brandon looks back at us and puts his finger to his lips. We both know it doesn't really matter if we're quiet. Liam saw Jude. He knows we're in here. And we don't have any way out. But it's an instinct, and we all hold our breath.

"Brandon? Kids?"

My mouth falls open. That's Mike's voice!

Brandon lunges for the door, jumping knees first onto the desk blocking it.

"Dad? Dad? Is that you?"

"Brandon, it's me! It's Dad! Lena and Jesus are here too. Open the door."

Brandon immediately slides off the desk and strains to push the furniture out of the way.

He yells to me, asking me to help him.

I look down at Jude, who still hasn't loosened his hold on me.

"It's the good guys Jude. It's Lena and Mike and Jesus. The police are here. We're safe."

Jude blinks and slowly lets his arms relax. We stand up, tripping a little because of the pins and needles our feet, and begin to help Brandon push the furniture away from the door.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

They try to separate Jesus and me into different ambulances but I won't let them. Neither of us want to be checked out at all, but Jesus has a head wound and the gash on my arm is bleeding too heavily for medical tape. The paramedics say I'm going to need stitches.

Jesus keeps trying to get off of the stretcher and go hug Mariana, who looks the way she did when she was six and first came to live with us. The paramedics finally have to threaten to strap him to a backboard before he'll let them put him in the ambulance.

I see Mike stuffing Liam into the back of a police car, and I feel the acid in my stomach boiling. I failed my children. Jesus was injured, and likely has a concussion from smacking his head when Liam punched him. Mariana and Brandon look shaken and scared, and Jude is completely incoherent. I pull away from the paramedic who is trying to press some bandages against my arm, and go kneel down beside the shivering boy.

"Jude?" I look him in the eyes. "It's over. They're taking him to jail now. He won't ever hurt you or Callie again."

Jude looks at me as though he's trying to make sense of what my lips are saying. I reach out and pull him close, hugging him to me.

"Lena?" My heart lifts and I look around. Stef is coming over to me, and there are actual tears in her eyes. I keep one arm around Jude and throw the other around her. She hugs us both ferociously.

"How are our babies?" She asks me.

"Jesus has a concussion. Everyone else was barricaded inside the bedroom," I tell her.

She pulls back and looks at the bandage on my arm, then takes my hand and leads me away from Jude.

"What did he do to you?" She looks so terrified of the answer that tears spring to my eyes. I know why she's asking. She's afraid Liam raped me. I reach out with my good arm and touch her cheek.

"I'm fine, Stef. He didn't have time to waste here."

Stef sags with relief and I start to ask her about Callie, but the paramedic interrupts us.

"Excuse me, ma'am?" The paramedic is saying, "You need medical attention. You can ride with your son or you can ride alone, but you need to go to the hospital."

Stef and I break apart.

"Take care of them, Stef," I tell her.

She nods. "We'll be right behind you. Callie should be out of surgery soon."

I reach over, and in our kiss are all the things we don't have time to say.

Then I let the paramedic help me into the ambulance.

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**Author's Note: How is Callie doing? Have we seen the last of Liam? There's still plenty of story to go...Please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Brandon:**

I never wanted to be in a hospital waiting room again. The hours after my mother was shot were the worst hours of my life.

Until now.

We're all at the hospital again, the whole family, just like before. Only this time, my mother is in the waiting room with me, and Callie and Jesus are in the beds. I heard my moms talking. Jesus is going to be fine. He has a concussion, I think from being slammed into the wall. Again that feeling of guilt creeps over me. If we hadn't barricaded the doors, he might have been inside with us. But he wouldn't leave Lena. And I know that Lena wouldn't have wanted me to leave Mariana and Jude unprotected.

Mariana is curled up in a ball in the corner, but her eyes are open, and I know she isn't asleep. My mom is holding one of her hands. Jude is holding my mom's other hand. A little color has come back into his face. I know he feels safer around Stef than he does with the rest of us. I think it's because she was the one who saved him and Callie from their foster father.

My whole body feels heavy when I think of Callie. We don't know anything yet. All we can do is wait, holding our second vigil in as many months.

Lena and Jesus come back into the room. The concussion must not have been bad enough for him to be admitted. I stand up and go over to him.

"Listen, I am so—"

Jesus puts his hand on my shoulder.

"It's cool, bro. There's nothing you could have done. Thank you for taking care of Mariana and the little guy."

I nod, my throat tight. He sounds so casual. So matter of fact. Like he really doesn't hold it against me.

Mariana and my mom get up from their chairs, and we all wrap each other in an enormous hug. Lena goes and sits next to Jude, who's rocking back and forth like he's going to explode.

"Sweetie, do you want to talk?" She asks him.

Jude looks up at her, his mouth moving like he wants to say something but can't get the words out. Lena waits, looking into his eyes.

"Is Callie going to die?" The questions bursts out of him like he's been holding it in for hours. Which he probably has.

Lena looks at Jude, her eyes full.

"Listen to me. Callie has been through a lot in the last couple of days. More than anyone should ever have to go through. We all have," she says, glancing up at Mariana, Jesus, and me.

"But Callie is the strongest person I know. Except, maybe for Stef," she says, and a little half-smile creeps across her face.

My mom comes over and sits down next to Jude too.

"Jude, whatever happens, we are going to be right here for you. Both of us. For you and for Callie," she says.

Jude looks like he's in physical pain.

"What if one of us did something bad? What if we broke the rules, and you didn't want us anymore?"

I see Lena and my mom look at each other, thrown. My heart drops. It's going to come out.

"Jude, I promise that there isn't anything that you or Callie could do that would make us stop loving you."

"But what if you couldn't adopt us anymore?"

My moms' eyes meet again, clearly anxious at what Jude is implying

"Then we would still love you. And we would make sure you were safe. But we haven't changed any of our plans. We still want you and Callie to come live with us."

We all look up as my dad clears his throat.

My mom walks over to him and they start to talk, but now a surgeon is coming into the room, his mask hanging from his neck, and asking "Is this the family of Callie Jacobs?"

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jude:**

I don't understand what the doctor is saying. Things are broken, and she's had "major blood loss," and something about oxygen, and internal injuries, but it's mostly going over my head until he says,

"Someone should be with her." That's me, and I run for him, grabbing his hand and saying over and over again, "Where is she? Where is she?"

The doctor looks down at me, and his eyes are warm.

"Are you her brother?" He asks me.

I nod, feeling like I'm going to burst if I can't run to her.

The doctor bends down and looks at me.

"Your sister is a fighter. Did you understand what I was telling your moms?"

I hesitate, then shake my head.

"Callie will probably wake up soon, but she's hurt very badly. Right now, one of your moms is going to go sit with her until she's doing better. Just your moms for right now. Understand?"

I don't want to cry, not in front of him, but I can feel my nose starting to run the way it does when I'm about to.

"You mean she might not wake up?"

The doctor puts his hand on my shoulder.

"It's possible."

I lean my head on his shirt and start to sob.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Note: **

**WARNING: GRAPHIC CONTENT. **

**A big one for you tonight. Please review! It really motivates me to keep going. It's not as fun to write if people aren't interested, and I love hearing your feedback. This is one of my favorite chapters; hope you like it. **

**Liam:**

The holding cell is tiny, and I've been in it for ages. They took away my shoes, my watch, my belt, and my switchblade, then ran a metal detector over me before shoving me in here. It looks a little like the room where I kept Callie. Cement floor, smooth walls. But it's smaller, and there's a little wooden bench bolted to the floor, and a light on the ceiling. It has a clear plastic cover over it.

I keep pacing around the cell, trying to figure out a way out. I will die before they throw me into one of these cages full time.

I pause. There's a movie I saw a long time ago, where a man wets a shirt and uses it and a stick to pry open some prison bars. I'm not an idiot; I know that wouldn't work. Anyways, this cell doesn't have bars, it has a regular door with a door knob, and two or three extra locks. But the guy says something in the movie—"A wet shirt won't break."

I cross to the door and start banging on it.

"Hey! I need some water in here!"

After a couple of minutes an annoyed-looking cop opens the door and hands me a Styrofoam cup of water.

"How long am I going to be in here?" I ask him.

"A while. We're busy."

I smirk at him. "And I get a room all to myself? I'm flattered."

His eyes narrow. "You're a special level of scumbag."

He shuts the door and I hear keys turning in the locks.

Perfect.

I wait until I'm sure he's gone before I reach into my boxers and pull out the thing I shoved down there when I was in the back of the police car.

Callie's pillowcase. The one I took from her room. I hold it to my nose for a second, but it doesn't smell much like her anymore. For a moment I'm really annoyed. I've been denied that smell all day. But I have bigger fish to fry.

I don't have my switchblade anymore, but I don't need it for this. I take the pillowcase between my hands and rip it down one seam, then another. No one comes. The pillowcase is a now a long flap of cloth connected by a seam at the bottom. I wad it up and shove the whole thing into the Styrofoam cup. It soaks there for a minute, pulling in the water.

A wet shirt doesn't break.

I pull it out and gently twist the fabric so that it resembles a long rope. I look around the room. There's only one thing in here that I could attach it to, and it's only a few feet off the ground. I pull the fabric around my neck like a necklace, and kneel on the floor with my back to the door. Clumsily, I wrap the two ends of the pillowcase around the doorknob as tightly as I can. I lower myself into a pushup position, head up, resting the weight of my neck on the makeshift noose. I was in this position earlier today, with Callie's warm body under me.

I can't say I regret any of this.

I let my arms drop.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

The light looks grey this time. Dark and light greys are swirling together, surrounding me. I drift, floating on an endless grey river, past black forests where creatures I can't see are making strange noises.

Then something changes. The river starts going faster, and I'm being thrown into invisible rocks, and Technicolor bursts of light are flashing around me, turning the water green and purple and yellow, and I go under, water rushing into my lungs as pain encompasses my whole body. Something far above me is making a sound, high pitched and shrill, but it's distorted by the waves above my head. But the sound is getting closer, and louder, and someone is shining a spotlight into the water, directly onto my face, and I think it's going to blind me completely until I open my eyes.

The world is bright, so bright, but there's no spotlight, no river. The high-pitched noise has stopped. Sounds and sights are moving in and out, louder and softer, bigger and smaller, like the world is broken.

After a while one of the sounds starts becoming steadier. It's a voice. It's saying my name. I try to respond.

"Mmmmmm." It comes out as a groan, but it's the best I can do. There's something on my face, and it's making it hard to form words.

"That's good, baby, that's so good!" The woman is squeezing my hand tightly now, and it hurts, but not in a mean way. She sounds happy. Happy that I'm talking.

I try to place it. The voice, the light. I force my eyes to open all the way and look around.

The ceiling above me is filled with cold, sharp lights in metal bars.

Florescent, I think. Florescent lights. Like the kind we have in school.

I can't seem to turn my head, but I try to look around out of the corners of my eyes. I look to my left, to see who is holding my hand.

A pair of kind, crinkled eyes come swimming into view.

"Stef?" I croak.

I think she hears me, because she smiles really wide, and two tears start rolling down her face.

"I'm right here, Callie."

I've never seen Stef cry before. I try to reach out my finger and touch her cheek, to wipe away her tears, but my arm feels extra heavy and I can barely move it.

"You have a cast on, love. They had to patch you up."

The words make me cold, and the lights start to blur. I remember. I remember everything. Tears start slipping from my own eyes now. Stef looks concerned.

"What is it, baby? Are you in pain?"

Every single part of me hurts, but that's not why I'm crying. I can't use my right arm at all, but I try again to lift my left hand, the one with the cast, and manage to hook a finger under the oxygen mask on my face.

Stef grabs the mask and puts it back over my mouth. "No, no, no, leave that on Callie. You need it to breathe."

I ignore her and push it off again. She waits, watching me.

I take a breath, the air rattling in my lungs.

"Liam," it comes out as a wheeze.

Stef's mouth tightens.

"We have him, Callie. He's in jail. He's never going to hurt you again."

My hand is throbbing and I want to lower it back onto the bed, but I'm not done.

"Jude?"

"He's fine," Stef tells me. "Everyone is fine." I start to drop my hand, but another thought occurs to me.

"Am. I. Dying?" It's hard to get the words out.

Stef shakes her head emphatically.

"No. No way. You know what the doctor said? He said you're a fighter. And I know you fought Liam."

_What? How can she know that?_

Stef holds up something in a little plastic bag. It's a gold chain wrapped around metal buttons and snaps.

My mother's necklace. My flimsy weapon. I look away, embarrassed.

Stef touches my chin gently, asking me to look at her. I meet her eyes.

She's smiling, the way she did when I told the truth about Liam to the judge.

"I couldn't have done it better myself," she says.

Her voice is so full of pride, I can't help but give her a small smile too.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Note: Sorry folks...But I did put "not deathfic" in the story description. :)**

**Please continue to review. I got some great feedback on the Stef/Callie moments. I've got a lot of things planned, but any other moments you are looking forward to seeing? **

**Also, a disclaimer: I am not a doctor. I don't even play one on TV. I have Google and my brain. Hope you like it anyway. :)**

**xxxxxxxxx**

**Stef:**

I hold Callie's hand until she drifts back to sleep. I almost don't want her to fall asleep again. I already watched her come back to life and then die in an ambulance. I'm afraid if she closes her eyes, she won't wake up.

I know I'm being silly. Rest is the best thing for her right now. She has a small amount of swelling in her brain from the head injuries, which is why they weren't sure when she would wake up, or what shape she'd be in if she did. The doctors were discussing placing her in a medically induced coma when the machines started going off and she opened her eyes. Ironically, she was so cold in that fucking dungeon that it kept the swelling down and probably saved her life. Even if she hadn't been so injured, she probably would have died of hypothermia in a couple of days.

I stop in the hall just outside the door that leads to the waiting room. Everything I've seen and felt in the last 36 hours just completely overwhelms me and I have to lean against the wall to stay upright.

I've never seen a girl fight like that. I've never seen anyone do what she did. The doctors told me that she has multiple layers of injuries. Some are from last night, probably around the time Liam took her. She fought her abduction so hard that he dislocated her right shoulder, broke two of her ribs, caused bruises and contusions over half her body, broke her right ankle, and gave her a hell of a concussion. And she still fought him, even after that. From the swelling and the color of the bruising, they think that the second set of injuries is more recent. Maybe from this morning. That time, he broke her left arm, cracked two more of her ribs, and fractured her skull.

And he raped her. Viciously. And probably more than once.

It's too much. I sink to the floor, my back against the wall, and tears start rolling down my face. If I hadn't waited to file that police report, we could have found her last night, or early this morning, maybe before she was ever raped. Lena and I were trying so hard to keep her with us that we almost lost her completely.

The door to the waiting room opens and I look up to see an expression of complete shock on Jesus's face.

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**Jesus:**

I have never, not once in my entire life, seen Stef cry. She got a little misty at her wedding, but not like this. I drop the half-melted bag of ice I had gotten up to replace, and sit down on the floor next to my mom, who is trying to wipe away her tears as though she can keep me from seeing them.

I can only think of one reason she would be crying, and it makes me feel like all the lights in the world have gone dark.

"Mom? Is Callie…?"

My mom shakes her head, and the lights come back on.

"It's just been a long day, love."

I put my arm around her.

"Do you want me to go get Mama?"

She places her hand over the arm I've wrapped around her shoulders.

"I'm okay. I think a hug from you is exactly what I needed. Does your head hurt?"

I start to shake my head no, but it hurts so much that I stop. She sees it, and starts to laugh.

"What?" I ask, surprised.

"This whole family. We're just a bunch of WWE wrestlers." She's laughing so hard that I can't help but smile, but her laugh is strained, and I'm really puzzled.

"Mom, I think you need some sleep."

She looks at me, and she must see the concern on my face, because she immediately pulls herself together and stands up.

"No, no, I'm fine. Come on, my sweet knucklehead. Let's get back to our family. " I take her hand and let her pull me to my feet. She steadies me as a wave of dizziness rushes over me. It passes, and she lets me go.

"Mom?" I stop her as she's about to open the door, and she looks at me.

"Don't call me knucklehead for a while, okay? It's kind of a reminder I got knocked out."

Stef smiles, a real one this time, and kisses me on the cheek.

"You got it."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam**

When you're being strangled, it feels like someone is pulling your skin too tight. Like they've caught your skull in a vise, and are crushing until your eyes start to pop out. It feels like forever before my vision goes grey, and the longer it goes on, the worse it is. I'm being pulled and pulled and crushed and crushed until suddenly my forehead smacks against the floor.

My body takes in huge gulps of air as I feel hands flip me over and shadows fall across my face.

"Call a fucking ambulance!" Someone is shouting. I just lie here, chest heaving, as the room swims back into focus. My eyes are streaming.

"Breathe, asshole," someone says roughly. It's the cop who gave me the water. I bet he's going to get fired for this.

I breathe. I couldn't stop if I wanted to. My lungs have taken over, demanding air. I can feel my heartbeat slowing down, coming back to normal. My neck is killing me.

For a minute I'm furious. I was so close.

But then I realize something. There are people coming in to take me with them.

_I'm leaving._

Paramedics in white gloves begin to lift me onto a stretcher. The cops hold me in place and attach cuffs to my hands and ankles.

"The doctors will need those off if he has to go in for an MRI," one of the paramedics says.

"The cuffs stay on," my friend the cop tells him; "He almost beat a sixteen-year-old girl to death today."

The paramedics look at me with so much horror that I start laughing, but my body doesn't have the air for noise. So I just shake with laughter as they carry me out, and into an ambulance that is surely going to the only hospital nearby.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	20. Chapter 20

**Author's Note: A long one for you! (Note: they won't all be this long.) Thank you so much to those who have been reviewing, and really to all of you who are reading! Please continue to review! It's always good to know your thoughts about the story. **

**Mariana:**

Jude has curled up against Lena's side, and it looks like he's finally fallen asleep. I'm glad. It's way past midnight now, and he's completely worn out. His hand is still tightly gripping mine though, even in his sleep. I wonder if he thinks that I'm Callie.

I look over at Jesus's empty chair. He's only gone to get some more ice for his head, but I don't want him going out of my sight. I know he doesn't blame me for not facing Liam with him. He would have been really, really mad if I'd tried, and I know I would have been useless. But as much as he tries to protect me, I think he forgets that it goes both ways. He's my brother, and I'd die to protect him too.

The door to the hallway opens and Jesus and Stef come in together. Instinctively I start to stand up, but Stef motions me back down. She sees Jude dozing against Lena's side and comes and sits down on my other side, so she won't break Jude's hold on my hand.

"Callie woke up," she tells us quietly.

I exhale a gigantic breath I didn't even realize I'd been holding.

"Did she say anything?" I ask.

My mom nods, but her face looks a little distant. There are shiny patches under her eyes and I quickly look up at Jesus. The expression on his face confirms it.

Our mom has been crying.

I reach out to her with my free hand, and she holds it tightly.

"She's not out of the woods yet. She's going to be here for a while. And when she comes home, she's going to need a lot of help."

I nod, then blurt out the question that I know has been bothering all of us:

"What did he do to her?"

Lena moves for the first time, and we all look at her. I can see tears in her eyes.

"Everything," she whispers.

I think I understand what she's saying.

I think I need to throw up.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

_Everything._

I regret the word as soon as it's out of my mouth. When Mariana asked the question, all I could see was Liam's face, smiling at me, telling me how badly he hurt my girl. When I asked what he'd done, that was the only word he'd given me, and it answered a thousand questions all on its own.

Mariana looks absolutely ill. She runs across the room to the trash can in the corner and throws up. Jesus jumps to her side and holds her hair back from her face.

I look down as Jude's head stirs against my chest. He sits up, his eyes squinting in the bright hospital light.

"What's going on?" He asks, looking around for the source of the noise that woke him up. He sees Mariana throwing up in the corner and before I can stop him he runs over to her and starts patting her on the back. I go over too and put an arm around her shoulders. I'm drowning in guilt. I made this whole situation worse. I know they would have figured out she was raped eventually, but I'm glad Jude was asleep for what I said.

When Mariana stops throwing up, she starts to cry. I hug her tightly and murmur apologies into her hair. She leans her head on my shoulder as she sobs, and I wince at the pressure. The pain medication the ER doctors gave me is wearing off, and my stitches are starting to hurt. I ignore it. She needs to cry.

After a while I help Mariana sit down in a chair and I hold her hand until she's calmed down. I hate to leave her, but I need to go check on Callie. I don't know where Stef disappeared to and I don't want to leave Callie alone. I want someone to be there when she wakes up.

Softly, I open the door to Callie's room and I have to stifle a gasp. The doctor told us how hurt Callie was, but I could never have imagined that she would look like this. Between the casts and blankets and bandages there's very little of her showing, but what skin I can see is bruised and cut. With her broken limbs, she looks like a tiny bird that fell out of a nest.

I pull a chair up beside the bed, and gingerly touch her left hand. She moves a little in her sleep, and mutters something I can't understand. Her leg starts twitching, like she's trying to kick, sending ripples up the blanket. I take her fingers gently in mine, and after a minute she calms down.

I don't think I want to know what she's dreaming about, but I'm pretty certain that I already do.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Stef:**

I've never seen Lena make a mistake like that, but I can hardly hold it against her. She's gone through hell and back tonight. I let her and the children take care of Mariana and I go out into a different hallway where Mike is standing with Brandon. Mike looks like someone ran him through a comb. I think Brandon is trying to make sure he doesn't head for the nearest bar.

They look up as I approach.

"Can you guys get a couple bottles of water and a bag of ice?"

"Sure. Is everything okay?" Mike asks.

"Callie woke up," I tell them.

They both stiffen.

"How is she?" Mike asks.

I don't want to upset Brandon, so I hedge my answer.

"She's asleep now."

Brandon looks at a loss for words. Mike puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Brandon, I need to talk to your mom for a minute. Why don't you go ahead and get that water?"

Brandon nods and heads for the arrow pointing to the cafeteria.

"And some ice," I call after him.

He doesn't turn around.

I look at Mike. He really does look like hell.

"Why don't you go get some sleep?" I say to him. "There's nothing you can do here."

"Stef…" Mike's voice is tense, "Stef, Callie got on the bus in Phoenix."

"What?"

"Callie got on the bus in Arizona. She crossed state lines."

My whole body goes ice cold.

"Mike, that girl has been through hell. They can't take her  
away from us now!"

Mike looks exhausted.

"I know. The best place for her to be is clearly with you. And I'm sure they won't make a move to bring her back to court for a while. Not while she's in the hospital, at least. But we both know there's a good chance that her placement with you will be questioned."

My legs feel like jelly. I have to sit down in a chair before they fail me completely. Mike sits down beside me and puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," he says.

I feel completely numb. Slowly I take out my phone and search through my missed calls. I haven't checked my phone for hours. The whole family has been together, so there was no need.

There's a voicemail from my mother, although I don't think she knows about this. Another one from my boss, who probably wants my statement. I scroll down to the end and my heart sinks. Mike is right. There's a missed call from Callie's caseworker.

I steel myself and press the "call back" button.

The phone picks up halfway through the first ring.

"Hello?"

"Bill? It's Stef Foster."

"Stef! How's Callie?"

"She woke up, but she's still in the ICU. She wasn't even breathing when I found her. Liam almost killed her. It's a miracle she woke up at all."

"God, I'm so sorry. Listen, Stef, I know this is the worst possible time, but we need to talk about Callie's running away. Do you have any idea why she ran?"

I frown.

"I honestly don't know. She's been really happy with us. I think it might have had something to do with the rape trial. She was devastated when the judge dismissed the case." I try to sound convincing, but I don't even really believe my own words. I don't think Callie would run away for something like that.

"I understand she was upset, but we need to be certain that that's why she ran. If there's a chance she'll run away again, she'll need to be placed in a group home. And if the court determines that she violated her parole, that's a whole other matter."

I feel sick. Bill doesn't seem to know it yet, but Callie did violate her parole. She wasn't allowed to cross state lines.

"Bill, she won't run away again. Not after what happened. She couldn't if she wanted to; she can't move an inch, and she's going to be recovering for months. "

Bill sighs. He's overworked as hell, but I think he truly cares about the kids he works with.

"Listen," he says to me, "I know you and Lena are great parents. If it were up to me, there wouldn't even be a question as to whether Callie should stay with you. But it isn't up to me. There's going to be an investigation. Get ready to make the best case you can, okay? And try to figure out why she ran. That will help a lot."

"Okay," I agree, but deep down I'm wondering how in hell I'm going to do it. How can I ask Callie anything when she's in the shape she's in?

"Bill, what's going to happen with the adoptions?" I ask, hoping against hope that maybe they'll still let us at least adopt Jude before anything else can happen.

"On hold, pending the investigation. If CPS determines that Callie and Jude are in the right place, you'll be able to go ahead as planned."

My heart sinks.

"How long will the investigation take?"

"I don't know. A couple weeks, probably. And if the judge nails her for a parole violation, it's a moot point. She'll probably go back to jail regardless."

This whole situation is so mind-bogglingly unfair that I want to hit something. Instead, I can only say goodbye to Bill and hang up.

I try to calm myself before I go back to waiting room. I have a wife and five children in various stages of injury and post-traumatic stress. And they're all counting on me to be strong, even as my daughter is slipping out of my grasp.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	21. Chapter 21

**Jude:**

I rub Mariana's back the way Callie rubs mine when I get sick. Stef and Lena left, but Mariana's still crying a little.

Callie. It has to be Callie.

Stef walks back into the room and I turn to her. She must see the worry on my face because before I can even ask her, she says "Callie's okay."

I jump into her arms and she hugs me so tightly I can't breathe. I don't care.

"Did she wake up? Did she ask for me?"

"She asked if you were okay," Stef says, "and I told her we were all fine."

I'm so relieved I want to cry. Callie is okay! She isn't going to die.

I look over at Mariana, who gives me a shaky smile. Stef notices me looking at her, and says "Mariana just got sick because she was so worried about Callie."

That seems weird, but I don't ask her any more questions about it. I want to find out everything Callie said.

"Did Callie say who took her? Was it Liam? Did he hurt her? Did he—?"

Stef squeezes my hand.

"Don't worry about that right now. Callie is going to be okay, and that's the most important thing. All right?" Stef doesn't sound strong, like she normally does. It's more like she's begging me not to ask her any more questions. But I can't help it.

"It _was_ Liam, wasn't it? You can tell me."

Stef squeezes my hand even more tightly.

"Yes. It was Liam."

I get up and run out of the room.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Brandon:**

Even in a hospital plastered with signs, it still took me an embarrassingly long time to find the cafeteria, and somehow it's taking me even longer to find my way back. My mom is going to be annoyed as hell. She asked for this water half an hour ago.

I trot back through the hospital, trying to retrace my steps. I know the waiting room was somewhere near the emergency department, although for all I know everyone may have moved by now, since Callie has been out of surgery for a few hours.

I still haven't seen her. I'm afraid to ask. If I'm too pushy, they could figure out that I like her. Even more than that, though, I'm afraid of what I'll do if I see her. I can't even imagine how bad she looks. And what if I cry, like Jude, or throw up, like Mariana? I need to be strong. And I'm not sure I can do it.

I'm so lost in thought I take a completely wrong turn, and somehow end up inside the Emergency Department itself. I'm ready to throw up my hands in frustration and just ask one of the orderlies for directions and a bag of breadcrumbs when I catch sight of a pair of cops standing beside one of the curtains. I know those guys. They work with my mom and dad.

I head over to them to say hi when one of them, Officer Ruiz, sees me and gets a strange look on his face. He starts to walk out to meet me, palm out, like he's trying to keep me from coming any closer. I peer around him and I think I'm seeing things.

Lying on a gurney, in the same hospital as the girl I love, is the man who almost killed her.

Liam's wrists and ankles are cuffed together, and there's a huge red welt around his neck that looks like some kind of blistery necklace. My mouth falls open. He's got several small cuts around his left eye, like someone raked his face up pretty good. But it's when I see the knuckles on his right hand, bruised and swollen not from a beating he took, but a beating he gave, that I drop everything I'm holding, and lunge for him.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jesus:**

Brandon's been gone for ages, and I want my ice. My head is killing me. I've been up for so long my eyes keep drooping, but every time they do, someone, usually Stef, elbows me in the side. I'm not allowed to sleep for a while. Something to do with the concussion.

It's downright embarrassing to get knocked out in basically one shot, but I don't stop to wallow. Marianna still looks like a fish out of water, all pale and grey and struggling to breathe properly. My stomach didn't feel all that great either when I heard what Lena implied about what Liam did to Callie. But it makes me want to punch things more than it makes me want to throw up.

Lena's with Callie now. I wonder how she's doing.

Stef managed to retrieve Jude from the hallway, where he was trying to hunt down Callie's room. Good thing. I don't think he could take seeing her as messed up as the doctor described. But now he's pacing the room, and it's making me dizzy.

The door to the waiting room opens and I look up. It's a cop. I think he must be here to take my mom's statement, but he's motioning her urgently to follow him. Stef gets up at once, looking over her shoulder at me.

"Jesus, hold down the fort."

She and the cop leave the room. I can hear muffled words, then their footsteps take off, and they're actually running down the hall.

I look at Mariana. This can't be good.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note: Please review! If interest remains strong, I'm going to do my best to take this story all the way until January (because seriously, who doesn't need a routine Foster's fix?) Please review and let me know what you think. :) I have so many ideas left to go! (Starophie, I told my friend she has to call me the master of disaster from now on, so thank you for that! MKAmericanHero, so glad you're enjoying the writing!) **

**Stef:**

Ruiz and I tear through the hallways, patients and doctors throwing us alarmed looks as they see two police officers who look like they're racing to stop a nuclear bomb from going off. I can't believe any of this. But Liam is here, and somehow Brandon found him, and I have to get to him before my son gets arrested.

We turn the corner into the Emergency Room. A cop and two orderlies are trying to restrain Brandon, who's thrashing in their arms, trying to get to Liam. I run over and grab him by the wrist.

"Brandon, STOP!"

He keeps trying to throw us off.

"He…tried…to…kill her!" He yells.

I grab his other arm, pinning him down so he has no choice but to hold still. Sweat is pouring down his face and there are tears in his eyes.

"Brandon, _stop_. He's in custody. Callie is alive. And you need to stop before they arrest you. I can't go through that tonight, Brandon." My eyes are tearing up too. "Please, stop. For me."

Brandon's green eyes meet mine, and he stops moving. The orderlies slowly start to release their hold on him, the cop still looking tense. Suddenly Brandon throws his arms around me, like he did when he was a little kid. I hold him tightly and look up at Ruiz.

"Ruiz, let this one slide? That boy almost beat his sister to death."

Ruiz nods. "Just take him out of here. Make sure your children stay away from the ER, all right?"

I feel a rush of gratitude. I am truly in his debt.

"Thank you," I tell him. He presses his lips together and nods, but I can see the sympathy on his face.

I get up and help Brandon to his feet. He picks up some bottles of water and a bag of ice he must have dropped earlier. I keep my arm around him as we walk out of the Emergency Department, but I can't stop myself from glancing over my shoulder at the curtain that hides Liam. He was fine when I left him. The only reason he would be here is if he tried to commit suicide. I'm not sure whether I'm pleased or disappointed that it didn't work.

I gently detach my arm from Brandon's shoulder, and tell him to wait for me. I walk back to Ruiz.

"Officer?" I try to get his attention. He comes out from behind the curtain. I test my theory.

"Suicide watch?"

He nods.

"We've got it covered."

"What did he use?" I ask.

He hesitates. I know he's probably not supposed to divulge that information, but we're colleagues. Friends.

"He said it was her pillowcase."

I think the murder in my heart is registering on my face, because he grips my shoulder the way I did for Brandon.

"We're on it, Stef. He's not going out of my sight. He's going to pay, I promise."

I dig my fingernails into my palm. My son is waiting, and it won't be good for anyone if I go to jail. I nod stiffly and turn away, and Brandon and I go back to find our family.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam:**

The emergency room is crowded, which is fine by me. I'm perfectly happy to lie here all night on a comfortable bed with nurses who bring me saltines and glasses of ginger ale. Most of them do double takes at the cuff holding me to the metal bar on the gurney, but no one says anything. One of them, a cute little redhead who's probably still in medical school, is with me when Callie's foster brother tries to attack me. When the cops run out from behind the curtain to subdue him, she and I are left alone together. She glances behind the curtain towards Brandon, who is still yelling.

"I crashed into his car," I tell her.

She looks relieved.

"Actually, a friend of mine was in the car, and I think she's here in the hospital now. Could you get her a message from me?" I look as contrite and hopeful as I can.

She seems a little surprised. "What's the message?"

I smile my most grateful smile and recite it to her. She writes it down.

"Her name is Callie Jacobs," I tell the nurse, trying to look apologetic. "Please give her the message for me?"

The medical student smiles back at me sympathetically.

"I'll do my best," she says.

The curtain ripples and the two cops come back in.

"We almost done here?" One of them asks the student.

She nods. "It doesn't look like there was any major damage. Just minor injuries to his skin and muscle tissue. We're just waiting for the doctor to sign off on his discharge. It could be another hour or so."

"The sooner, the better," the cop says, throwing me a look of pure disgust.

I smirk at him. I wonder what the look on Callie's face will be when she gets a message from her dear friend Liam. I wish I could be there to see it.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

When I wake up again, a new person is holding my hand. Her crinkled hair is messy and she has black smudges at the corners of her eyes. Her head is resting next to me on the white blanket covering my bed. It's Lena. I relax a little. Her eyes are closed, and I'm not sure if I should wake her.

I look around me. I'm in the hospital. I can see bags of fluid that are sending steady drips into a tube that I assume connects to my arm. One of the machines blinks, and I feel a burning sensation in my hand, then a rush of warmth through my body that makes me sigh as the pain dulls. I try to raise my head a little more. The lights are dimmer now, but I can still see everything around me. There is a television in the corner of the ceiling, but it's off. Next to Lena there's a nightstand with a phone and a pitcher. And in the far right corner, there's an open door that's at the wrong angle for me to see through. Light pours in from the hall, and shadows move across the floor…

I jerk so violently that I hit Lena in the face. She looks up immediately and places a hand on my shoulder.

"Callie, stop! It's okay, it's just me!"

I'm breathing hard. I look towards the door again. The shadows keep moving, but no one is coming in.

Lena takes a towel and starts wiping the sweat from my forehead.

I try to tell her about the door, but my mouth is so dry it feels like my tongue is made of sand. She takes a cup of water from a little tray and holds it to my lips. I realize the mask that was over my face is gone. Instead I have just a thin plastic tube hooking into my nostrils, sending cool air into my brain.

Lena lets me take a tiny sip of water.

"More," I plead. She gives me another tiny sip, then sets it back down on the tray.

"No more for right now," she says. "I'm not sure if that was strictly in keeping with the doctors' orders."

She smiles at me. I try to smile back. I'm so thirsty I could drink buckets of it.

"How are you feeling?" She asks, tucking my hair behind my ear. I try not to wince as her fingers graze a bruise that's probably hidden by my hair.

"Better," I manage. "Painkillers."

"Oh yes. They're giving you quite a bit of morphine," she confirms.

"Good stuff."

We're quiet for a moment. I keep glancing at the door, where people's shadows are causing the light to flicker.

Lena follows my gaze.

"Would you like me to close that?" She asks me.

I swallow, and nod. She gets up and shuts the door.

It's better. The light under the door still flickers a little, but it's easier to focus on Lena, who's sitting down on the side of the bed so I can see her without having to turn my head. I have questions, but the medicine is making me feel kind of confused, and I'm having trouble putting my thoughts together.

"How much is this costing you?" I ask her.

"Nothing," she says, sounding surprised. "You're technically still a foster child. The state will pay."

I let that sink in. "I guess it's a good thing you didn't adopt me after all."

Lena looks upset now. "Callie, what are you talking about? Did you not want to be adopted? Is that why you ran away?" Her voice cracks. I don't know what to say. Part of me, probably the same part that's feeling so warm and hazy because of the medicine, wants to tell Lena everything. The other part is yelling at me to shut up.

That part is louder.

I close my mouth and turn my head to look at the TV in the corner of the room, even though the screen is black.

"I'm sorry, Callie. I shouldn't have asked you that right now. You just focus on feeling better, okay?" She says softly.

I nod, keeping my eyes trained on the television. Well, eye and a half, really. My right eye still doesn't want to open all the way.

The television is too far away for me to see my face reflected in it, but I can see a tiny picture of a girl lying in a white hospital bed. There's a white cast on her left wrist and some sort of weird device keeping her right arm in place. The sheet is higher over her right leg than her left, suggesting she has cast on that foot as well.

I don't recognize this girl. She looks weak, and helpless. I don't want to be her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Please review!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Author's Note: I can't believe this story is almost at 100 followers! You guys are amazing; thank you so much for your support, and please continue to review!**

**Mariana:**

The door swishes open, startling me out of my thoughts. Brandon and Stef are coming into the room. Stef looks angry, and Brandon looks like he's seen a ghost.

"Mom?" I ask. Stef takes a bottle of water from Bandon and hands it to me. I drink it gratefully, the clear, sweet water rinsing the nastiness from my tongue.

Mom hands Jesus a bag of ice that's already starting to drip from the corners. I wouldn't let him fall asleep, and he's practically cross-eyed from exhaustion.

"I'm going to go get Lena to take you guys home," Stef says. Jude, who's been going around the room like speed racer for the past 30 minutes, stops and stares at her.

"No way!" He shouts. I can't remember ever hearing Jude shout. Stef puts a hand on his shoulder.

"Jude, Callie is awake. She's going to be fine. It's time for everyone to go get some rest."

"I need to see her!"

Stef hesitates.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea right now," she says carefully.

"Why? Why can't I see her? If she's okay, why can't I see her?" Jude demands.

Stef sighs. "Callie might not want anybody to see her right now. She has some bruises on her face."

Jude knits his eyebrows, puzzled. "So what? I've seen her beaten up before."

Stef looks uncertain. "You mean, besides when she came out of Juvie?"

Jude nods. "Some of our foster fathers used to hit her all the time. They hit me too, but she always tried to get in the way." He's not shouting anymore. His voice is small.

My heart aches for him. Jesus and I had a foster mother kind of like that. She would slap Jesus across the face all the time because the teacher said he was disrupting the class. Nobody diagnosed his ADHD until we came to live with Moms.

I go over to Jude and pull him into a hug.

"Jude, Callie's going to need some clothes and things. Can you help me put together some stuff for her? I bet you'll know what she would like. Were there things that used to make her feel better?"

Jude thinks for a second.

"She likes her rabbit. The one mom gave her. But I think she took it with her when she left. I don't know where it is." His eyes are starting to look shiny again.

"That's a great idea!" I say quickly, "let's go home and find her some clothes, and tomorrow we'll find her a rabbit in the gift shop, okay? It'll be really special because it'll be from you."

I can tell Jude wants to stay, but he's looking at Mom, and she looks so tired I think he feels bad arguing with her anymore.

"…Okay," he says finally.

Mom shoots me a grateful look, and goes through the doors to go find Lena. Jesus looks over at me and smiles. I think he's proud of me.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

A voice breaks into my dreams, and I wake up, immediately reaching for Callie.

"Lena?" Stef is whispering from the doorway. I'd fallen asleep again in the armchair next to the hospital bed where Callie is sleeping. Now that she's out of the ICU we managed to secure a private room for her because we know she won't be able to take having a stranger in her room right now.

She's fast asleep, so I get up from my chair as quietly as I can and go to Stef, who pulls me into the hall.

"Lena, I talked to Bill."

I hold my breath involuntarily. From the look on Stef's face I know it wasn't a good conversation.

"He says there's going to be an investigation. If CPS thinks she'll run again, they'll remove her from our house and send her to a group home."

"Oh God," I whisper. I can't believe this.

We stand silently for a minute.

"What are we going to do?" I ask Stef finally.

She rubs her hand over her eyes.

"I don't know. Nothing tonight. Can you take the kids home? They're about ready to drop."

"Of course," I tell her. "Are you sure you don't want to go home too? Sleep in a real bed?"

"Honestly love, I think you'll have more work being home with the kids than I will being here with Callie. I'm sorry to ask you to do it, but I don't think I'll be able to sleep unless I know she's protected."

"I'm fine going home, but what do you mean 'protected?' She isn't in any danger, is she? Liam's in jail."

Stef is biting her lip, and I'm really nervous now.

"Stef?"

"Lena, Liam is here. In the hospital."

My entire body goes cold.

"What are you talking about?"

"He tried to kill himself in holding. They have to treat his neck. He shouldn't be here long, but I'd feel better knowing I'm here."

"Of course," I say. I can't believe this. If that bastard escapes custody, my whole family will be in danger again.

"Mike has agreed to stay with you and the kids tonight," Stef says, as though she's reading my mind. "He has his gun, but I promise you he's not going to need it."

I nod, but all I can think about is Liam pulling out that knife. My shoulder starts to throb where he cut me. I reach out to Stef, and she pulls me close as I bury my face in her hair.

"Take care of our babies, okay?" She says. "Make Jude get some sleep. Drug him with some Nyquil if you have to."

I laugh, but I file the suggestion away in the back of my mind. It's not a bad idea.

I kiss her deeply, trying to gain strength from her steadiness. Stef is my rock. It seems like forever ago that we were saying our vows, all seven of us dancing in the garden under the moonlight.

I still don't understand what happened after that. Not really. But it's two o'clock in the morning, and my children need me. I'll have to find out some other time.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

I wake up when I feel a nurse wrapping a blood pressure cuff around my left arm. As it tightens, all the blood rushes down into my hand, making my wrist throb against the cast. The nurse sticks a thermometer in my mouth and adjusts a little blinking splint on my finger that's measuring the amount of oxygen in my blood.

I wonder how it can tell.

The nurse smiles at me when she sees I'm awake.

"How are you feeling?" She whispers. I'm not sure why she's whispering until I look around and see Stef sitting in an armchair, her head thrown back, mouth open, absolutely dead asleep.

The sight makes me smile a little.

"I could use some more of those painkillers," I tell the nurse.

Actually, I feel like I've been hit by a truck. An 18-wheeler carrying cement.

She takes a cord from a machine and hands it to me. "Whenever you need some, you just press this," she says, showing me a little red button on the end.

"What if I press it too much?" I ask.

She laughs.

"You can't. The machine won't give more than the recommended amount. Once you max it out, you're out of luck until it's time for the next dose."

I press the button, and that same burning sensation courses through my hand and sends warmth down my body, easing the pain almost immediately.

I exhale.

"Thanks."

"No problem." She turns to go.

"Oh, I forgot. Someone left a note for you," she says. She comes back and hands me a slip of paper from the nightstand. Then she walks out of the room as I struggle to open it with one hand.

**_Liam says he hopes you're feeling better. He'll see you soon. _**

I'm screaming even before I finish reading.

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	24. Chapter 24

**Stef:**

The scream is so horrible, so terrified, that I'm on my feet with my gun drawn before I've even woken up. I scan the room but no one's here, so I holster my weapon and run over to Callie, who is sitting half up in bed, staring at something on her lap and screaming over and over again like it's a poisonous snake.

"Callie, what is it? What's wrong?" I hop onto the bed and wrap my arms around her, but she just keeps screaming. All kinds of monitors are going off now.

The door bursts open and two nurses come running in.

"What is it?"

"What happened?"

I shake my head. I have no idea. I look down, trying to figure out what Callie is staring at. After a moment I see a tiny piece of paper that blends in with the white hospital blanket. I pick it up and Callie turns her head away and buries her face against my chest. I open the paper and read the note.

And I feel like screaming too.

"How the HELL did this get in here?" I yell at the nurses.

One of them looks puzzled, but the other looks down at the floor, shame and confusion written on her face.

I shove the note in my pocket, more concerned about the crying child who is basically trying to burrow her way into my skin because she is so frightened.

"It's okay baby," I rub her back, trying to calm her down. One of the nurses goes out of the room and comes back with a syringe.

"This will help her relax," she tells me.

I don't know if I should let them, but Callie is shaking so hard in my arms that I don't know what else to do.

"Callie, do you want something to help calm you down?" I ask her.

She shakes her head into my uniform. Her breathing is fast and shallow, and I'm worried about the position she's in. This has got to be terrible for her ribs.

"Callie, you need to lie back down," I tell her.

She shakes her head again, and wraps her left arm more tightly around me, digging into my back with her cast.

I realize there's only one way to get her to lie down. I maneuver her over towards the right side of the bed, wincing as she cries out in pain.

"What are you doing?" The nurse is asking me.

I ignore her and swing my legs up onto the bed. Slowly I ease Callie back down, keeping her in my arms.

"Ma'am, you can't…"

I shoot the nurse a look, and she shuts her mouth. I can tell this is easier on Callie's ribs, but her breathing is still too fast. One of the monitors starts beeping.

"Her pulse ox is low," one of the nurses says. "She's not getting enough air."

I look at the nurse with the syringe, and nod. I know Callie doesn't want it, and it breaks my heart, but I'm her parent and this is what I have to do.

The nurse injects the syringe right into one of the plastic tubes that snake into Callie's hand. Her body goes limp in my arms. I lower her carefully back down onto the bed, still keeping a tight grip on the fingers of her left hand. Her heart rate starts to come down, which makes me breathe a little easier, too.

"Can she hear us?" I ask the nurse.

The nurse shrugs slightly.

"It's possible."

"Hand me some paper," I order, unable to keep the fury out of my voice. She leaves, and the other nurse, the one who looked so embarrassed, still won't look me in the eye.

I wait until the first nurse comes back with the pen and paper before I say anything. I won't take the slightest chance that Callie will hear this conversation.

I use the edge of my palm to steady the paper as I write:

**_HOW DID SHE GET THIS NOTE?_**

I hand the piece of paper and the pen to the shame-faced nurse, and she writes back,

**_An orderly from the ER dropped it off for her. It seemed like a routine get-well wish._**

It's a good thing I'm busy holding Callie's hand, because otherwise I might slug her.

I take the paper back and write:

**_IT'S FROM HER ATTACKER!_**

The nurse looks horrified.

"I'm so sorry!" She whispers. "I didn't know."

I'm counting to ten in my head. I take a new piece of paper and write a different note.

**_RUIZ—_**

**_LIAM GOT A NOTE TO MY DAUGHTER _****_WHILE_****_ HE WAS IN THE ER. I WANT HIM WATCHED 24/7. ADD "INTIMIDATING A WITNESS" TO THE CHARGES, AND WATCH HIM MORE CLOSELY!_**

**_STEF_**

I fold the note over and hand it to the nurse.

"There is an officer named Ruiz in the ER. Give him this. Have him write back to tell me he got it. And if anyone or anything tries to come into this room again, my wife or I better be coming in with it. Understood?"

The nurse nods and hurries out of the room. The other nurse, who doesn't seem to know anything about this, picks up some medical implements and starts examining Callie.

I look down at Callie. Her eyelids are fluttering, and I can't tell if she's asleep or awake. I use my fingertips to smooth some hair away from her forehead, careful not to touch the bandages covering her stitches, or the spot where her skull was fractured.

I was right here. Right here in this room. Will I never be able to protect her?

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jude:**

As soon as we get home I run upstairs to Callie's room. I'm not sure what clothes she has left here. I don't know what happened to the ones she ran away with, but I'm sure Mariana will let me borrow some of hers.

I push through the door, and freeze.

The room's a mess. There's grey powder everywhere; all over the window and dresser and on top of Callie's bed. I stand still, trying to make sense of it. It looks like the gunpowder in pirate movies.

"It's what the police use for fingerprints," someone says behind me. I whirl around. Mariana's there, looking at her messed-up room.

"I forgot they'd probably have to look for evidence," she says, picking up a dusted picture-frame.

I'm confused.

"Why do they need to? We told them what happened. And they caught Liam here, right? So they know we aren't lying."

Mariana shrugs.

"It's just how the police do things," she says. "It will probably help at the trial."

A trial. I've only ever seen one trial. My dad's. The judge asked Callie and me some questions. I was only six and I didn't really know what to say, but Callie had to tell the judge and a bunch of other people about how our dad liked to go to bars and drink a lot, and how he would drive us to school sometimes when he'd been at the bar all night.

I remember that. He didn't drive straight, like most people do. He sort of drove all over the road. Once one of the mirrors on the side of the truck hit a tree and snapped off.

Dad hit Callie. He said she'd been blocking his view.

Mariana brings me over to the dresser. She looks in Callie's drawers and pulls out an old shirt and some socks. Then she starts going through her own drawers.

"What do you think she'd like to wear?" She asks me.

I go and stand next to her. Mariana's clothes are different than what Callie wears. Mariana likes pink and flowers. Callie likes plain clothes that are colors like green and brown.

"Go ahead and dig around," Mariana offers. She starts pulling stuff out of a different drawer. Girl stuff. I pick up some sweatpants, trying not to let them come unfolded. Callie likes sweatpants. And there's a shirt that's nice. It's blue, like the nail polish Mariana let me wear. It's not Callie's favorite color, but it's not pink.

I look in the bottom drawer. There's a bunch of random stuff in here. Bathing suits and sweaters. I pull one of them out, and I smile. It's a Christmas sweater. It has Rudolph on it.

It's silly.

Callie will like it.

I put the sweater on the bed. Mariana looks over.

"That?" She sounds surprised.

I nod.

"Callie likes Christmas. One year we made paper antlers in school, and I showed them to her when I came home. She laughed really hard and put some strawberry jelly on my nose and started calling me 'Judolph.'" She even tried to sew that on my stocking. But she accidentally sewed it shut, so we couldn't get anything in there. I cried because I thought Santa wouldn't leave me any presents, and Callie felt so bad that she gave me hers and used an oven mitt for her stocking."

Mariana and I both laugh, but my chest twinges when I remember how upset Callie was.

Mariana picks up the sweater and puts it in a backpack with the rest of the clothes.

"I think it's perfect," she says.

I hope so.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note: Please review! :)  
**


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: 100 Followers! :Happy Dance: I am so honored that you all like my story! **

**Please keep reviewing with your thoughts, ideas, and impressions. How did people feel about the Christmas memory? I'm toying with the idea of putting some more old memories in later in the story. Also, anyone else having mad problems with the site this week? Yeesh.**

**Jesus:**

I groan when I hear Lena's voice. She's been nudging me awake every thirty minutes for the last four hours. She says it's what the doctor told her to do, but I don't know why. Doesn't your body need sleep to heal? Isn't that what they're always telling us in health class?

I open one eye. Lena is sitting on the floor, leaning back against the couch I'm sleeping on. We're all camping out in the living room again, like when Mom got shot. No one wanted to be alone tonight.

Jude's sleeping on the floor next to Mariana. I'm sure she would have preferred the couch, but I think she could tell Jude needed her. Those two were fused at the hip today.

I tried to make Lena take the couch I'm sleeping on, but she wanted me to sleep on something soft. Mike's kicked back on the other couch, still in his uniform, snoring his head off. It's kind of funny. He sounds like a dragon mixed with a tea kettle.

Lena's still nudging me, trying to make sure I'm really awake. She looks exhausted; her eyes are completely bloodshot.

"I'm up, I'm up!" I say quietly. She puts her finger to her lips, and points at Jude. I don't see why. The kid looks dead to the world to me. For some reason he's holding a sweater with a Christmas tree on it as though it's a security blanket. That kid keeps getting weirder.

"How'd you get him to sleep?" I whisper.

Mama smiles.

"Nyquil."

I raise an eyebrow. Her smile grows. I can't tell whether or not she's joking.

"You look like you could use some, too," I tell her.

She shakes her head.

"Someone has to wake you up."

"Not me," I say. "I'm fresh as a daisy. I'm going to stay up from now on. You get some sleep."

"I could not believe you less, Jesus."

I cover a laugh. She knows me well.

"No, really," I tell her, "I'll go get some coffee, you go to bed, and I'll wake you up if anything feels weird. The doctors said you only had to do this for eight hours, and it's been seven since they diagnosed me."

She hesitates.

"No coffee," she says, clearly caving.

"No coffee," I agree.

I hand her a pillow and a blanket and she lies down. It takes her about a minute to fall asleep. I ease off the couch to go get a snack, but as I'm walking across the room Brandon wakes up with a start.

"Easy. Just me," I tell him. The dude's been tripping all night. I expected it more from Mariana, but aside from some muttering she's basically sleeping like a baby.

Brandon tosses off his blankets and follows me into the kitchen. I pull some cereal down from the cupboard while he opens the fridge and stares blankly inside.

"We've got leftover pasta," I suggest. He doesn't even seem to hear me.

"Hello?" I wave a hand in front of his face.

"I found Callie in here, the morning after Mom got shot. She was making biscuits. She said they were comfort food."

This is news to me.

"Like, the bread things they give you at KFC?"

He nods. I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say.

"Brandon, are you, like, in love with Callie?"

"_Jesus_!" Brandon literally puts his hand over my mouth. I push it off.

"Dude, no one's awake," I tell him.

"You don't know that!" He says, peering around the doorway at the four snoring people in the living room.

"I'm guessing that's a 'yes,'" I confirm.

He glares at me.

"If I did like Callie, and I'm not saying I do, then no one can ever know. Comprende?"

"Si, señor!" I give him a military salute, but he doesn't smile.

"I'm serious, Jesus. She and Jude could get kicked out of the house. It's completely against the rules. And if, for instance, something would happen that would make her afraid she would get kicked out, she might, for example, run away so that her little brother could stay. That's all I'm saying."

It takes me a second to work through that convoluted mess, but I see the look on his face and realization dawns.

"Dude, did you and Callie…?"

He shakes his head emphatically. He peers around the doorway one more time, then points to his lips. My mouth drops open.

"You _kissed_?" I can't believe it. How did I miss that?

"Je-_sus_," he hisses, looking around like CPS agents are about to come out of the walls.

"Sorry, sorry," I tell him. "I'm just surprised. So that's why…?"

Brandon looks so upset I wish I hadn't said anything.

"Oh, hey, that's not your fault. It takes two to kiss, man. And nobody could have known what that Liam douche was gonna do."

Brandon just looks worse. I have to do something to get him out of his head. He's going to kill himself if he thinks he caused what happened to Callie.

"Come on," I wrap my arm around his forehead. "Let's go Google biscuit recipes. Maybe Callie would want some."

Brandon's face brightens a little bit, and I try not to think about what Mama's going to say tomorrow when she comes in for coffee and walks into a flour-covered disaster.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Brandon:**

By the time we've found a biscuit recipe, located the ingredients, and mixed up a batch that doesn't look lumpy glue, the sky has turned lighter and the birds are starting to chirp. It was interesting trying to cook without waking anyone up, but we managed okay. We used our hands to mix the dough, like I'd seen Callie do, and when Jesus knocked a cookie sheet off the counter I caught it before it hit the floor.

I look over at Jesus, who has dough streaked across his shirt and flour in his hair. He must be tired, but he's not showing it. He's hovering by the oven, opening the door every five seconds to see if the biscuits are cooking. I feel a rush of gratitude towards him. I know his idea to play Betty Crocker was something he did to make me feel better. And it worked. As long as I've been measuring and pouring and mixing, I've been able to keep from thinking about Callie. I wonder how she's doing right now. Is she asleep? Is she awake? Is she talking to my mom?

And where is Liam? What kind of sick, twisted world is it that they were both in the same hospital last night?

I hear footsteps behind me and spin around, but it's just my dad.

"Hey B," he says wearily. "Got any coffee around here?"

He goes over to the cupboards and starts banging around. I can tell he's trying to be quiet, but he's not doing a good job.

"I'll find it," another voice says from the doorway. We turn to see Lena, still wrapped in a blanket, watching as my dad adds insult to injury in the mess that is her kitchen. Mike steps back and Lena retrieves the coffee and measures it into a pot.

"Care to explain?" She asks, glancing at the flour covering her kitchen counter.

"Comfort food," I tell her. "Callie likes them."

Lena gives me a small smile.

"Good thinking," she says.

"What's good thinking?" Mariana comes into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes and her neck.

"You're brothers are making some biscuits," Lena informs her.

"_You're_ cooking?" Mariana looks at me and Jesus like we just said we're dancing in Swan Lake.

"For Callie," I tell her.

"Oh." She walks over to Jesus, who is trying yet again to open the oven, and smacks his hand.

"You need to keep the door closed, genius." She fiddles with a button on the stove and a faint yellow light turns on inside. Jesus looks as sheepish as I feel. We forgot about the oven light.

Breakfast feels normal and completely strange, all at the same time. None of us are hungry, but we all sit around the kitchen table and pass some cereal back and forth. Same chairs, same table, same bowls and spoons. But there are two empty chairs now, and my dad is sitting in Jude's seat because Jude is still passed out on the floor.

No one feels much like talking, so it's mostly just spoons clinking and birds chirping. I don't like that. I need something to distract me, or I might go insane. Maybe I should take up baking full-time. If my heart keeps feeling like this, I might have to open a bakery professionally.

"Will we get to see Callie today?" I finally blurt out.

Everyone looks at me, and then at Lena.

She takes a deep breath.

"I don't know Brandon. I don't know how she's feeling, or how self-conscious she's going to be. I don't know what kind of night she's had. If she says she's up for visitors, I think it might be okay to go in one at a time with me or Stef. But we shouldn't push her, okay?"

I nod. I wonder exactly what Lena means by self-conscious. Self-conscious because of the attention? Self-conscious because we know, in all likelihood, what Liam did to her? Self-conscious because of…how she looks?

If that's what it is, I need to prepare myself. I can't go in there and react with surprise or horror at how she looks. It would hurt her feelings so badly.

"Mom?"

Lena looks at me.

"Is Callie going to be…disfigured?"

Lena sighs.

"I don't know Brandon. She's probably going to have some scars. But she's still going to look like herself."

"Does she look like herself right now?" I know I'm pushing it, but I need to know this.

Mariana and Jesus, and even my dad, are looking back and forth between me and Lena like it's a tennis match.

I can see my mom struggling to find the right words.

"Brandon, she looks like she was in the ring with Mike Tyson. But she still looks like Callie."

I remember Liam's hand. His bruised knuckles. He hit Callie so many times he injured himself.

I wish I'd killed him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's Note: Were you able to read Chapters 24 and 25? Please let me know, the site has been crazy lately. And please continue to review; nothing makes me happier than hearing from you!**

**Mariana**

We're in the car on the way to the hospital, and Jude's finally starting to wake up. I remembered to bring the backpack with the things he picked out, and I added a couple things of my own. Lena picked over our DVD collection and stuffed a few into the bag. It's basically bursting at the seams now, but there's still something we have to get. I hope we find the right one. I know this is really important to Jude.

I can't help but think about Lena and Brandon's conversation this morning. I'm not sure whether I'm ready to see Callie. I want to make sure she's okay, but I don't know what to say to her.

Lena parks and the six of us head into the hospital. Mike makes a beeline for the cafeteria, and Brandon takes a step forward, like he wants to follow him, but after a moment he turns and comes back to us. Lena puts an arm around him and we head to the gift shop.

It's a strange place. There are so many things; things that I don't think anyone in a hospital could ever want or need, like Vera Bradley purses and little pieces of jewelry, or model airplane kits. There's a bunch of kid stuff, actually, and Jude immediately zooms towards it. I follow him, trying not to bump into the shelves of candy and tissues. The wall of stuffed animals is almost completely divided by gender. Everything is pink and blue, with some yellow thrown in to mix things up. I see the look on Jude's face and I wish we'd stopped somewhere else; a different toy store. Jude turns away from the cuddly new baby stuff, and goes over to a display I didn't even notice. It has beanie babies in it. I haven't seen those for years, the little animals with soft, bean-bag-like filling. They're cute, but most of them aren't _too_ cutesy like the stuffed bears and elephants on the wall are. Jude rifles through them for a minute until he pulls out a small grey rabbit. He examines it closely, then puts it back.

"It doesn't look like hers," he says, his voice tight. I can't tell if he's worried or frustrated.

"Why don't you look around?" Lena asks him. "There might be something else she would like."

Jude heads off obediently, but I can tell he's upset that his plan didn't work. I look around the room too, and notice Brandon examining the jewelry. I catch his eye and shake my head. Way too obvious. He blushes at being caught, and quickly moves over to the books. I look to my right and notice a whole rack of magazines. I go over and pick a few off the shelves. Fun ones, with pictures of celebrities doing unimportant things. No fashion magazines. Nothing political. No one needs depressing facts about the economy when they're in the hospital. One of the magazines has a picture of the One Direction boys on it. I add it to the pile. I think Callie will get a kick out of it, and she'll have a cute poster to hang in her room.

I go over to Lena, who's waiting in line with some drinks for us, and hand her the magazines. She smiles.

"Good thinking," she says. I smile back, happy that she liked my idea.

A moment later, Brandon comes over holding a comic book. Calvin and Hobbs. It makes me laugh. I always liked that one too. It has all kinds of adventures with a little boy who thinks his stuffed tiger is real.

Brandon and I had the same idea. Something light, distracting, and easy to read. If Brandon and Jesus were so desperate to distract themselves that they actually started to cook, I can't imagine how much Callie herself needs a distraction.

Lena adds the comic book to the pile on the counter. The cashier has almost finished ringing everything up when Jude puts something else on top of the pile. It's a card with a picture of two people hugging. When I see what it says inside, I want to hug him. It's perfect.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

When the kids are finished picking out presents for Callie, I drop them off at the waiting room and go to find Stef. I open the door quietly, not wanting to wake anyone, but Stef is wide awake, sitting in the chair with her head in her hand.

"Stef?" I whisper.

She jerks up, then relaxes. She gets up and comes over to the door.

"What's wrong? How is she?" I ask, really concerned that something bad has happened. I can't remember the last time I saw Stef sitting in that position.

We go into the hall, and the bright light illuminates her face. I don't think she's slept at all. She has bags under her eyes, and looks absolutely dreadful.

"Liam slipped Callie a note," she says.

I feel nauseous.

"How the hell did he manage to do that?"

Stef looks down at the floor, her face tight.

"He got one of the nurses to do it when I feel asleep."

I pull her into my arms. She hugs me tightly, and I get the feeling that right now, I'm the one steadying her.

"Stef, I know this is a bad time, but there's something we need to talk about. Mike told me this morning that Callie got on that bus in Arizona."

Stef sighs.

"I know."

I feel a rush of surprise, then anger.

"What do you mean 'you know?' Why didn't you tell me?"

"Things have been so hectic I haven't really had a chance," Stef says. "Besides, I didn't want to worry you."

I don't like that one bit.

"We're married, Stef. We're a team. If it's worrying you, it's worrying me."

Stef apologizes. We stand in the hallway, silent, angry, until I realize that I have to let this go.

"The kids want to see her," I tell Stef. "If we try to hold off Jude for much longer, I think he's going to get a battering ram."

Stef looks worried.

"I'm not sure she wants to be seen. She's a mess, Lena. She can't even get up to go to the bathroom. They still have her on a catheter."

"I know. But I'm not sure whether the damage done from seeing her is any worse than the anxiety he's going through right now. I think he needs to see that she's okay."

"She's not," Stef says automatically.

"'Okay' may be the wrong word," I amend. "He needs to see that she's alive."

Stef hesitates.

"We have to ask her," she says.

I peer through the window in the door.

"How long has she been asleep?"

Stef looks pained. "They had to sedate her when she saw the note. She was hyperventilating so much it lowered her blood oxygen."

My heart feels like it is being twisted into a tiny knot. This girl cannot get a break.

"I think she's starting to wake up," Stef tells me. "One of us should be in there when she does."

I look through the window again. Callie does seem to be moving a little.

"Okay, you stay with her," I tell Stef. "I'll have the kids fill out the card Jude picked out."

A smile flits over Stef's face.

"That boy has a heart of gold," she says.

"He really does," I concur.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

I spend forever drifting in and out, not sure if I'm dreaming or awake. There's a haze over everything, and real things in the hospital room mix with visions of snakes that take on Liam's face, wrapping around my ribs and trying to squeeze me to death. I scream but nothing comes out. When I try to reach out to tear them off, my body won't move. I don't know how long I spend in this world, where things are and aren't real. After an eternity, the snakes start to disappear. I'm still in my hospital bed, my ribs smarting, my head pounding. Stef is sitting beside me, watching my face.

"Welcome back," she says.

"What happened?"

"You had a bad time earlier. The nurses had to give you something to help you relax."

I remember. The screaming. The note.

_Liam. _

"Is he here? Is he in the hospital?" I look around wildly, but I don't see anything else in the room.

Stef shakes her head.

"No. He was in the emergency room earlier, but he's gone. They took him back to jail."

That makes no sense. Why was he here? Why was he in the hospital?

"Are you sure?" I whisper. It seems like he can always reach me. He can always find me.

_I'll never be safe_.

"I'm positive," Stef says. "I checked with the officers an hour ago. He's on a 24/7 watch."

My mouth is dry. I reach over to the nightstand to pick up the pitcher of water, but I accidentally knock it over with my cast.

"I'm sorry!" I say, my cheeks burning.

"Don't be," Stef says. She reaches over and presses a button on the side of my bed. A nurse comes in, and Stef requests a towel. She quickly wipes up the water and hands the towel back to the nurse.

"See? Easy. All you have to do is press the magic button."

I try to smile, but inside I feel helpless. I can't even pour myself a glass of water.

A different nurse comes into the room.

"The doctor needs to check your stitches," she says.

"The ones on my forehead?"

The nurse looks from me to Stef.

"Has nobody come and talked to you?"

Stef looks as confused as I feel.

The nurse looks worried.

"I'm going to go get the doctor." She leaves the room, and Stef and I just look at each other. This doesn't sound good.

"Stef, what did they do in the surgery?"

"As far as I know, they reset whatever was broken and stitched up your head. You have a lot of cuts and bruises, but your head and your surgical incisions were the only thing that needed stitches."

Even though I can feel the full weight of my injuries every time I move or breathe, something about hearing them described like that makes me feel even worse. I guess I'm lucky I was unconscious when some of them happened.

I don't feel very lucky.

"Listen," Stef says, "The kids would like to come see you today. Are you up for it?"

"They shouldn't see me like this," I tell her.

Stef puts her hand on mine.

"They know you were injured. They can make the choice to stay in the waiting room if they think it will upset them. I'm more concerned about whether it will upset you."

I have to think about that. I want to see Jude. But Brandon? I'm not sure I can look him in the eyes.

"Does Jude know? What happened?"

Stef sighs.

"I think so."

Tears spring to my eyes.

"Everything?" I whisper.

I know the answer before she says it.

"He's a smart kid, Callie. He overheard a policeman talking about the trial. He knows Liam took you. I think he put two and two together."

I can't help it. I start to cry. I have never let Jude see me be weak. How could I? I was his mother, his sister, his bodyguard. I wanted to be the one thing he didn't have to worry about. When I got beaten or yelled at, I acted like it didn't bother me, because I hoped if it didn't bother me, it wouldn't bother him so much. If he had tried to protect me he would have been hurt, so I always made sure he knew I could protect myself. But I couldn't protect myself from this.

Stef leans down and hugs me.

"Callie, there is nothing for you to be ashamed of. This was Liam's fault. I'm just sorry I couldn't stop it."

What? What is she talking about?

I look up at Stef, my eyes still burry.

"It was my fault. I ran away. You saved my life."

Stef hugs me so tightly I have to push her away a little bit because my ribs are throbbing. I press the morphine button.

"This wasn't your fault, Callie," Stef says fiercely.

I don't bother to answer. I know better.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note: Please let me know you were able to see this. And please review! **


	27. Chapter 27

**Author's Note: Hey guys and gals, some people have mentioned that you've had problems posting reviews. Please keep trying, hopefully now that the site is back up, it will work! I've gotten a few that didn't come through before, and thank you so much for your persistence. I love hearing what you have to say.**

**A couple of you have mentioned that this story has a lot of sadness in it. I want to explain why. Part of it is that it's a dramatic story based on a dramatic show. It started with a sad premise, and I'm trying very hard to be real and accurate. The trauma from a rape doesn't go away quickly. And I've had a bunch of surgeries; the recovery from those are slow and brutal too. A lot of what Callie experiences in the hospital is stuff I've been through. So I'm trying to be real. And I truly believe the show is going to have to deal with her legal situation once she runs away.**

** Hopefully there will be a lot of sweet moments mixed in with the sad ones (that's what I'm trying to do, anyway.) I have a feeling things will work out in one way or another. ****So I hope you'll keep reading, keep reviewing, and keep enjoying. I'm doing my best to make it a good read. And thank you to all of you for your support! **

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**Stef**

I hold Callie's hand until a doctor comes into the room. He's the surgeon from last night, the one who was so kind to Jude. I'm happy to see him, but I'm also worried. I'm trying to pretend I don't, but I think I know where this stitches mystery is headed.

"The nurse tells me no one has talked to you about the specifics of the surgery. Ma'am, would you follow me outside please?"

Callie looks confused.

"You're not going to tell both of us?" She asks.

The doctor looks at me.

"Your mother and I need to discuss some things first."

I see his expression, and dread courses through me. I smile at Callie.

"Don't worry, sweets, I'll fill you in when we're done talking shop."

The doctor goes into the hall and I follow him, shutting the door behind me.

"Ma'am, I assume you're aware that your daughter was sexually assaulted yesterday?"

I am, but the words still make me wince.

"You ran a rape kit, right?" I ask.

"Yes. It was negative for fluids, but the assault she suffered was serious. You remember me telling you she had suffered major blood loss?"

My voice doesn't seem to be working, so I nod.

"Some of the blood loss was from her head wounds. Cuts in those areas always bleed profusely. However, most of the blood loss was caused by the internal trauma she suffered during the rape. Her cervix was damaged, and she started to hemorrhage. There was also a lot of tearing that required stitches. I didn't want to mention it in front of your children, but I assumed one of my residents had filled you in privately."

I can't speak. I feel frozen, staring at this doctor who somehow is making the reality of Callie's assault even more graphic with his medical phrasing and his precise terminology.

A thought occurs to me that makes me feel sick.

"Can she—will she be able to have kids?"

He nods, and I want to collapse in relief until he says, "We're going to need to check the stitches every day for the next few days, then weekly for the next month or so."

No. Absolutely not.

"You _cannot_ put her through that!" I practically yell at him.

The doctor looks sympathetic, like he expected my reaction.

"There's no help for it. We can sedate her to help her relax, but she'll probably still be aware of it."

"Then you put her under anesthesia," I tell him, fuming. "She's already so terrified she can't watch shadows crossing the floor."

"It's dangerous for her to be placed under anesthesia in her physical state, unless it's absolutely necessary. We'll try the heavy sedation and see how she does."

I close my eyes, trying to pretend that this is just a bad dream.

"I'm sorry," the doctor tells me. I don't respond. Those words mean absolutely nothing to me.

As he goes into Callie's room to check her stitches, my own heart feels like it's starting to rip open.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam:**

I lie on the thin bunk in my cell and interlace my fingers behind my head. I'm officially in jail now. They took me straight to processing after I was discharged. But not before I got to see a nurse run into the ER and hand one of my cops a note. The cop looked like his head was going to explode. He scribbled another note and gave it back to her. Then he leaned over me.

"If you ever pull something like that again, you'll be surprised how bad life can get in prison for someone who's a known child molester."

I yawned in his face. He looked like he was going to take out his gun and shoot me, but the other cop pulled him back and started whispering something to him. He probably told him to cool it or he'd lose his job. It seems I have a knack for putting cops' jobs on the line. I wonder what happened to the one who gave me the water.

I still find it somewhat embarrassing that the blond woman cop, Stef, was the one who took me down. I replay the scene in my mind—me running out the door, something hitting me in the back of the head.

I sit up straight, nearly banging my head on the bunk above me.

I'm no expert on law, but I'm pretty sure she was supposed to announce herself first. Tell me to freeze, and all that.

I make a mental note to ask my lawyer. One way or another, I don't plan on staying here long. And good leverage is so hard to find.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Short chapter today, but coming up next time...who's ready for a Callie/Jude reunion?**


	28. Chapter 28

**Author's Note: If you're not getting chapter notifications, check your spam folder. For some reason that's where all of mine started going! Add the address to your address book.**

**Please continue to let me know whether you can see this chapter, just in case. Were you all able to read the last Liam and Stef scenes? They're important! **

** JR2011, emilyam, tralala and everyone else who has just joined...welcome! Glad you're enjoying the story so far!**

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**Callie**

I begged them not to put me back into that dreamland. The doctor tried to explain that it was necessary, that it would help keep me calm, but I told him about the dreams and he agreed to do the exam without the shot.

I wish he'd knocked me out with a baseball bat instead.

I'm holding Stef's hand so tightly I think I'm going to break both of our fingers, but I can't stop myself. The doctor is opening my legs and I feel like someone is ripping me apart in a medieval torture chamber. I cry out and Stef grabs my shoulder, trying to brace me in some way, but no matter how many times she hits the morphine button, the pain is worse than anything I've ever felt. The doctor said he would numb me from the waist down, but I don't think he could have. If this is what the pain is like when I'm numb, I think without the medicine it would kill me.

I can feel the pressure of whatever tools they're using and all I can think about is Liam. Liam two years ago, Liam yesterday. When the doctor takes a wet cloth and starts rubbing down the inside of my thighs, bile rises into my throat and I start to vomit into a pitcher that Stef grabs and puts in front of my face.

The doctor stops and backs away, his face etched with concern. Stef looks like she's about to pass out or have a heart attack. I can't stop retching, flashing back to that wet towel sliding all over my body; Liam's lips on my stomach, his hands on my thighs.

My head is exploding and my ribs are shattering but I can't stop throwing up until there's not even bile coming out. The doctor hands me some water to rinse out my mouth, but I'm shaking so hard that Stef has to take it. I hear the doctor whispering to Stef, something about a psych consult, and I want to throw the pitcher at him. He'd be throwing up too.

I lie my head back down on the pillow, crying in waves that never seem to end. Stef is holding my hand, looking like her heart is about to break. This isn't fair to her. She's not my mother.

I realize she hasn't left my side all night.

"You—can—leave," I choke out, but my fingers are betraying me; I'm still clutching to her hand like it's the only thing that's keeping me sane. I think it really might be. If she leaves, I might go mad.

"I'm not going anywhere," she says, and a new wave of tears hits me, but this time it's because I'm so relieved, so glad that I don't have to be alone.

I'm starting to gasp for air, which makes Stef look nervously at a machine in the corner. I remember that machine going off before, when I got the note from Liam. I don't want another shot, so I try to slow my breathing, taking bigger breaths. The numbers on the machine turn from yellow to green.

"I'm sorry," I splutter.

Stef looks straight into my eyes.

"Apologize for this again and I'll arrest you."

I laugh, causing snot to bubble out of my nose. My cheeks flush but Stef just plucks some Kleenex from a box in the corner and holds them to my face.

"Blow," she says, like I'm two years old. I do.

"Is Jude still here?" I ask her after a minute.

She smiles. "He's in the waiting room, probably super-gluing his shoes to the floor so that we can't take him home."

I give a shaky smile too. That sounds like him.

"Don't tell him?" I say. I know she won't, but I need her to say the words.

She looks shocked.

"Of course not."

"Good." I know I shouldn't let Jude see me for a while, if at all. But even though I don't want him to see me like this, I want to see him so badly; he is the one thing in my life that is always good, and sweet, and pure. I need one of his hugs. I need him to remind me that life isn't always this bad.

"Could you help me wash my face off? And then bring him in? If he wants to?" I ask Stef.

She smiles again.

"Absolutely. I think it will do both of you some good."

"Just him," I remind her.

"Just him," she verifies.

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**Jude:**

We've been here for hours. I'm looking through the magazines Mariana bought for Callie. Lena said she didn't think Callie would mind.I like looking at the pictures of the celebrities, and the fancy dresses. It seems weird that most of the girls only wear those dresses once, to a party or something. If I had a dress like that, I'd want to wear it all the time.

I flip the pages and close the magazine. Lena's reading a newspaper. Brandon is playing piano on his knees with his fingers and staring off into space. I don't think he even knows he's doing it. Mariana is reading magazines too, and Jesus is looking through the Calvin and Hobbs book. He's laughing a lot. I wonder what it's about.

The door opens and we all look up. Stef comes in and motions to me to come with her. I jump out of my seat so fast the magazine falls out of my lap and onto the floor. I pick it up and grab the card we all signed.

"Just Jude?" Mariana asks. Stef nods, and Brandon looks disappointed. I want to kick him. I don't want him to be alone with Callie. She doesn't need anybody trying to kiss her right now.

I feel nervous, which is dumb. It's just Callie. But I don't know what she's going to look like, or act like. What if she doesn't remember who I am? But Stef said she asked about me, so she must know me.

Stef and I walk down the hall and stop outside one of the doors. Stef looks me in the eye.

"You remember that she's going to look different today, right? The doctors had to patch her up. She has a couple of casts on. She's okay, though. She's going to be fine."

That doesn't sound like she's going to be fine. I try to look through the little window in the door, but Stef's shoulder is blocking my view.

"You sure you want to go in?" Stef asks me. "She won't be disappointed if you want to come back later."

I ignore her and push into the room.

My jaw drops.

Callie looks a hundred times worse than I've ever seen her. No, a _thousand_ times worse. She has bruises on her face and throat, and her eye is swollen. Her arms and her leg are in casts. She has bandages on her forehead. There are wires and tubes all over the place. She looks sick and exhausted.

But she's watching me, and she's trying to smile. I can see how worried she is about me.

I make my legs move and go stand next to her.

"Callie?"

"Hey, baby." She says it like she always does, and I jump straight onto the bed and throw my arms around her, so happy that she knows me, so worried about how she feels, so scared of what she's been through.

Callie lifts up her arm and puts it around me, the cast hard against my back. She lets me hug her for a long time, but even though she's trying not to say anything, she starts breathing in this funny way that makes me think it's hurting her. I let go and sit up on the bed.

"Do you hurt bad?" I ask.

"Not too bad," she says. I know she's lying through her teeth. She always does that. I don't mean to, but I start to get mad.

"You don't have to do that," I tell her, "you don't have to lie. I can handle it. I'm not six anymore."

Callie looks surprised. I immediately feel ashamed.

"I'm sorry," I tell her.

"That's okay," she says, still looking puzzled. "Baby, are you mad at me?"

As soon as she says it, I know it's true.

"I thought you were going to leave me alone!" I burst out.

Callie looks straight at me, her eyes fierce.

"Never."

But that just makes me madder.

"You were! You left me!"

Callie looks really upset.

"Jude…" Stef says quietly, placing a hand on my shoulder.

"No, it's okay," Callie says. "Stef, can I talk to Jude alone for a minute?"

Stef hesitates, then leaves the room and shuts the door quietly behind her.

"Jude, I'm sorry. I made a huge mistake with Brandon, and you were right about us being a package deal. I thought if I left, they'd go ahead and adopt you, so I couldn't ruin it."

Tears are streaming down my face now. I'm not mad anymore, I'm just so sad I can't stand it.

"I was coming back," Callie says. "I was coming back when I…" she stops talking.

I wipe my eyes with the back of my hand. I didn't know that. I didn't know that she was coming back.

"I—I'm sorry," I say again.

Callie eyes are full of pity.

"I'm sorry too."

I lie down beside her and she leans her head on my shoulder.

"I love you," I whisper.

Callie kisses me on the forehead.

"I love you too."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	29. Chapter 29

**Author's Note: **

**Just a reminder, if you're having problems receiving chapter notifications, they are probably in your SPAM folder. Even if they aren't, keep checking the site for updates. I generally get a new chapter up every two or three days. **

** TheTBone, your review made me tear up! Sometimes I think I'd like to write professionally, so that meant the world to me. **

**To the person who keeps requesting a Lena/Callie moment: patience my friend! This story is going to go until January at least. There will be plenty of interactions with everyone. Please continue to review!**

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**Liam:**

My parents hired me the best lawyer they could find. He must be costing them a few private jets. And I've done his job for him.

I spend over an hour explaining the "facts" of the case to him. He was very clear before we started that I was not to tell him anything that I have done that was incriminating. I wasn't going to anyway. Instead, I carefully lay out all the things that prove I'm innocent.

He nods a lot, and writes things down. He seems pleased. Then he says,

"That may be enough for reasonable doubt on a few of the charges. But you are still going to have to explain what you were doing at the Foster house."

"Isn't that your job?" I ask him, a little annoyed.

He laughs.

"I guess it's both our jobs."

He starts to pick up his briefcase and turn to go, but I stop him.

"What if we could get the whole arrest thrown out?"

He sits back down in his chair and stares at me.

"Are you saying you weren't read your rights?"

"No. But I was assaulted by a police officer."

His ears prick up so fast that I half expect him to sit up and start begging for a treat.

"The cop hit me in the back of the head," I tell him. "She never told me to freeze, or drop my weapon or anything. She just slammed me into a car. That's against the rules, right?"

He cocks his head.

"It depends. A police officer is legally required to instruct you to stop if there is time to safely do so. If you are threatening someone, and they feel it would compromise their own or another's safety, they do not have to give any warning."

"I was getting into a car," I remind him. "Who was I threatening?" Now I'm sure that he is a complete moron.

His face brightens a little, and he writes down what I said.

_This_ _guy seriously gets a thousand dollars an hour?_

"I'll file an excessive force complaint on your behalf this afternoon. The arresting officer is..." he checks his notes.

"Stefanie Foster," I tell him. "The mother of my alleged victim."

The lawyer looks like Christmas has come early.

And now all I have to do is wait.

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**Jesus:**

After four hours in the waiting room, I'm going crazy.

Lena has put her paper down and is typing on her phone. Mariana is watching YouTube videos on her computer. I wish I'd brought mine.

Finally I can't take it anymore; I start to actually twitch. Lena puts her phone down.

"Are you getting antsy?"

I don't even have to answer; my leg's jiggling up and down so hard the change is starting to rattle in my pocket.

"Okay. I'm going to go see if Callie and Jude are finished visiting. Then Brandon can take you home."

Lena goes into the hallway and Mariana shoots me a look.

"What?" I ask.

"Callie's in the hospital; can't you cool it for a couple more hours?"

"No, I can't." In all the chaos I forgot to take my pill this morning and in two minutes I'm going to leave a Jesus-shaped hole in the door.

Mariana glares at me.

"I don't want to go home," she says. "I want to stay and see if I can give Callie the stuff we got her. Plus you know Jude isn't going to leave unless we force him. And there's nothing we can do for Callie at home."

Brandon looks up for the first time, and you can practically see the idea dawning in his head.

"Maybe there is," he says.

"Anything," I tell him, partly because I really do want to help, and partly because anything is better than sitting in the waiting room all day. Callie clearly doesn't want to see us, and I hate sitting here and feeling useless.

"Mariana, how much money do you have on you?" Brandon asks.

Mariana looks startled, but she checks her wallet.

"Thirty-seven dollars."

"Jesus?" Brandon turns to me.

I pull a twenty and a fistful of change out of my pockets and put it on the table. Brandon pulls a wad of money out of his pocket too. He's such a cheapskate; he basically hoards his allowance unless he needs new headphones or something.

"Okay, Mariana, we're going to hit the mall. Jesus, do you know where the vacuum cleaner is?"

I don't think I'm going to like this plan. I can't even do laundry without screwing something up. But I do know where the vacuum cleaner is.

"Okay, let's go," Brandon says, putting his money back in his pocket. His whole posture is so determined that he looks like he's been given some kind of mission by the President. I raise an eyebrow at Mariana. Brandon's never exactly been a man of action before. But Mariana looks intrigued, and I can tell she doesn't like feeling useless either. We wait for Lena to come back, and this time it's Brandon whose leg is jigging.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Brandon:**

The car ride sucks. My mom is driving; Lena decided to stay at the hospital with Callie and Jude. I offered to drive because my mom looks like shit, but she brushed it off. I'm wedged in the backseat between Jesus and Mariana. My dad's in front. When we were leaving, I realized that I hadn't seen him since we'd gotten to the hospital this morning. I texted him to meet us at the car. Now I can barely look at him. His hair is disheveled, and he smells like coffee. And underneath that, he smells like alcohol.

He catches my eyes in the rearview mirror, and smiles at me, a little too widely. My teeth clench. As soon as we're in the driveway, I grab his arm and pull him away from everyone. Stef watches us, but she doesn't say anything. She must have smelled it too.

"Dad? Meeting. _Now_." My voice is a whisper, but my dad can hear the anger in it, and it wipes the smirk right off his face.

"Brandon, it's been a long night," he says. My hands curl into fists. A long night? _A long night?_ Is he actually trying to excuse his drinking because it's been "a long night?"

"Yeah Dad," I tell him slowly, trying not to start yelling in front of everyone, "It's been a long night for _all_ of us. But you're the only one getting sloshed."

I turn on my heel and leave him standing in the driveway. He knows better than to get behind the wheel like this, and beyond that, I can't worry about him right now.

Mariana, Jesus and I head into the closet where we keep the cleaning stuff and pull out the vacuum and all the weird-looking attachments we can find. I'm not sure what half of them are for, but we'll figure it out. I hand Mariana some extra vacuum bags and canisters of Lysol and shove Windex and a bucket into Jesus's arms. My mom comes in from the driveway, where she was probably talking to my dad, and stares at us.

"Something you want to tell me?" She asks.

"Go to bed," I instruct her. "We'll handle this." To my surprise, she turns and goes upstairs without asking any more questions. The three of us carry our loads of supplies and go into Callie's and Mariana's room.

The place is a mess, like Mariana told me last night. There's fingerprint powder everywhere. Callie's bed has been stripped of its sheets and pillowcases, which are probably sitting in a forensics lab. The room is so overwhelmingly dirty that I begin to doubt my plan. We would probably need a team of professionals to get this done.

Behind me, Mariana and Jesus turn and walk away. I'm disappointed, but I don't blame them. I kind of dragged them into this. I go into the room and start hooking up the vacuum cleaner attachments.

After a minute I hear footsteps in the hall. Jesus comes in with the bucket, which is now full of water, and a handful of sponges. Mariana follows him with a bundle of bedding in her arms. She lays it down on Callie's bed as Jesus begins clearing stuff off the tops of the dressers and wiping them down.

I reach down and turn on the vacuum, and the three of us get to work.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	30. Chapter 30

**Author's Note: A reminder, if you're having problems receiving chapter notifications, they are probably in your SPAM folder. **

**Please keep reviewing...it makes me want to keep writing! I love hearing from you all. **

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**Mariana:**

I put down the stained sponge I'm holding and wipe the sweat off my forehead. I'm completely exhausted. We've been at this for over three hours. When we finished in my room we came down here to clean up the kitchen, which was still covered in flour.

I head upstairs to take a shower while the boys scarf down half of the biscuits they made last night. They forgot to bring them to hospital this morning, so I guess they're now fair game for snack time.

The water feels amazing running through my hair. I realize I haven't taken a shower in three days. None of us have. I'll have to make the boys take them too; they barely remember to do it on a good day, and we've had a lot on our minds.

Brandon has been attacking the entire house with cleaning supplies from the minute we got home. He's acting completely possessed. I think it's guilt. I don't know what exactly happened between him and Callie, but I've known for a while that something was up from the way they weren't meeting each other's eyes. And Jude confirmed it while we were sitting in that closet.

The memory makes me shiver under the warm water. I've had some terrible nights in my life—when Ana gave us up, when our foster parents ditched us at the police station, when Stef got shot. But sitting in a room with furniture against the door and my other mom screaming outside as a maniac attacked her—that was the worst feeling in the world.

I turn off the water and towel off. I know Brandon has another part of his plan, something that requires mysteriously large amounts of money. I hope he's not thinking of buying her jewelry again. He needs some lessons in lying. I've been trying to be completely honest since everything happened with Ana, but I know that Brandon's and Callie's secret is one that needs to be kept.

I head downstairs, and, like I thought, Brandon is standing by the door and impatiently flipping the car keys in his hand.

"You have your money?" He asks me. I take it out of my pocket and show it to him. I see a note he left for mom lying on the counter. I think she must still be asleep. I'm glad. She hasn't taken her gun off her belt for a day and a half.

Brandon still won't tell me where we're going; he just gets behind the wheel, his knuckles tense. After about half an hour, we pull into the mall. Jesus raises his eyebrows at me. Brandon hates shopping.

It's almost five o'clock now, and the mall is crowded with kids who have come after school. When we get inside, Brandon speeds towards the directory, but he looks confused as he scans the long lists of shops.

Finally he turns to me.

"Where do girls buy clothes?"

I know he's not asking where I buy clothes. He wants to know where to get some for Callie. It's a good idea; almost all of hers were with her when she ran away, and I have no idea where they are now.

I scan the list too. Most of it is places where I would buy clothes; but Callie likes long-sleeve shirts and earth tones. Finally I decide the best place to start is probably the least trendy place on the list, so we head over to the Sears at the end of the mall and start browsing through the racks. I pull out a couple shirts that look like her style while Jesus stares at jeans with a completely bemused look on his face.

"How do we know what size she is?" He asks me.

I go over and hold up a couple pairs.

"Probably this," I say, handing them to him. "And none with rhinestones or ripped knees."

"That's basically all of them," he tells me, but he digs through the pile, drawing annoyed looks from the employees who clearly don't relish the idea of having to fold all those jeans again.

I turn around. Brandon is looking at a table with intimates on them. He sees me looking at him and turns bright red, hastily backing away from the table.

"Um, this seems like your domain," he says to me. He practically dives back into the shirt rack. I roll my eyes.

_Boys_.

I pick up some plain white underwear, cursing myself for not checking what Callie's bra size is. But the doctor said she had broken ribs, anyway. She probably can't wear a bra for a while.

That's not good. I might have to make Brandon keep a paper bag over his head for a month.

After a while we pool our clothes together on the counter, and I'm a little bit startled when I see what Brandon has done. I tried to pick out things that were just in keeping with Callie's style. Brandon has tried to pick out clothes that look exactly like the ones she had before.

Either he is the most observant and thoughtful brother in the world, or that boy has got it bad for our foster sister.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

Watching Callie and Jude sleeping together is the sweetest and saddest thing I've ever seen in my life. Jude has been pacing and fretting for two days, but the moment he found out Callie was okay, his body just powered down. Callie has been asleep for hours nestled against him, the two of them fitting snugly in the tiny hospital bed. Her face looks more peaceful than I've ever seen it, which seems so completely incongruous with the situation that it makes me even sadder. Love this strong is forged in fire.

I knew Stef and I were right about them getting to visit. They each needed to relieve their anxiety about the other. But I'm positive that the trauma of seeing Callie like this is going to hit Jude sooner rather than later. And Callie's trauma is more intense than I can even comprehend.

The wave of confusion washes over me again. Why in the world would Callie leave her brother, whom she's spent her whole life protecting? Why would she run from _us_? She was safe in our house. I remember what Jude said in the waiting room, about doing something bad, and us not being able to adopt them anymore. Did Callie do something that made Jude think they were going to get kicked out? Is that why she ran away? Was she afraid of getting caught? But what could she have done that was so bad? Callie has never been in trouble since she came to us. She's a smart, honest girl. What could possibly be so bad that she had to run away?

A knock on the door pulls me out of my thoughts. I hurry to open it, glancing at the bed where my children are still asleep. Who would be knocking so loudly on the door of a hospital room?

I open the door and my heart drops to the basement. I recognize this man, with his grey hair and his paunch. It's Callie's parole officer.

"She's asleep," I tell him before he can say anything, "this isn't a good time."

He shrugs. "There is no good time. She violated her parole. We are legally required to place her under arrest."

"She is in the _hospital_," I spit at him, "she just had major surgery!"

"Ms. Adams, I understand how upsetting this is. To be honest, I don't really like this either. And given her injuries, we obviously can't bring her in. But I am required to summon her for a desk appearance."

"Give it to me, I'll give it to her! Please don't wake her up; she can't handle this right now!" My voice is rising and I can hear how desperate I sound, but I couldn't calm down even if I wanted to.

He looks through the window at Callie and Jude, who are still fast asleep in a nest of wires and machines. He pulls some paperwork from his pocket and hands it to me.

"May I offer some advice, Ms. Adams?" His blue eyes bore into mine.

I nod, unsure where he's going with this.

"When Callie is released from the hospital, don't wait to schedule the hearing."

I start to object, to point out her mental state, but he interrupts me.

"Callie looks like a train wreck right now. If the casts and bruises are still showing when she faces the judge, it may gain her some sympathy. I know you may be tempted to wait, to give her time to 'heal' or whatever you were going to say. Don't do it. If you can show the judge how badly she was hurt, he may decide that she's been punished enough."

He nods at me and walks away. I stand in the hallway, Callie's court summons in my hands, and stare after him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	31. Chapter 31

**Author's Note: We just hit 225 reviews! That's amazing! As a small thank you, I have a long one for you today! Please continue to review! **

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**Stef:**

In my dreams I'm in a basement. There's a door with a window in it, and on the other side I can see Callie, lying on the floor in a puddle of her own blood. Heart racing, I try to kick the door in, but it won't budge. I look around for something to hit it with, but the only thing I see is a bucket, a bucket with red water and when I look into it Liam's face is reflected back at me, grinning, and then he's on the other side of the door, holding a knife to Callie's throat and unbuttoning his jeans…

I gasp and sit straight up. I'm in my bed, sunlight streaming through the curtains. There is no basement, no door, no Callie in danger. I try to calm down, to stop the ringing in my ears, but then I realize that it's not in my ears, it's coming from my cellphone. I dig into my pocket and pull it out. It's Lena.

"Hello?" My heart is still racing.

"Stef, I've been trying to reach you for an hour. Callie's PO just came here. He handed me some paperwork ordering Callie to come to court for a hearing."

I close my eyes and open them again. The room looks the same. I'm not dreaming.

"Does Callie know?"

"No, I got him to hand the papers to me. He says we should schedule the hearing as soon as possible, while her injuries are at their worst. To get sympathy. I don't want her going through a trial right now; she's not ready. What if we schedule it in two weeks, and she gets sent straight back to prison?"

"Okay, Lena, breathe. I'm going to go to the office right now and talk to my boss. She might be able to call in a favor or something. And we're going to get her the best lawyer in California."

"We don't have the money for that, Stef." Lena sounds close to tears.

"We'll find the money," I say quietly.

We say goodbye and I take a quick shower before I shrug into a new uniform jacket. On my way out I see a note on the kitchen counter. Brandon, Mariana, and Jesus went to the mall. I can see Mariana going there, but Brandon and Jesus? Since when do they engage in retail therapy?

My heart is hammering on the drive to the station, but I don't know if it's from nerves or the aftereffects of the dream. I can't believe they sent a bench warrant to a sixteen-year-old girl's hospital room. A sixteen-year-old rape victim, at that. I've been a police officer my entire adult life, and I think we know better than anybody else how much the justice system can truly suck.

When I get to work I go straight into my boss's office, but stop when I see the men she's talking to. Tall, suits, shiny black shoes. I know these people.

"Office Foster," one of them says. "We were just talking about you."

I try to keep my face passive, but I'm completely tense.

"How can I help you?" I ask calmly.

My boss is downright angry.

"There's been a complaint made against you," she tells me quickly, before the men can speak.

I figured that out from the presence of the Internal Affairs agents, but I pretend to look surprised. My boss looks worried and my anxiety starts to creep into my stomach. Whatever this is, it's serious.

"Ma'am? Who made the complaint?" I ask, looking her directly in the eyes.

The disgust in her voice is unmistakable.

"Liam Olmstead."

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**Callie:**

Before I even open my eyes, I feel better than I have in days. Someone has turned down the dial on my pain, and my head isn't pounding. The blankets are pulled up around me, like someone has tucked me in, and something warm is pressing against my side. My eyes open a little. It's Jude. He's curled up against me like a puppy. The sight makes me smile. I want to get some water from the nightstand, but I don't want to wake him, so I just turn my head and look around for Stef.

Lena is sitting in the chair Stef was in earlier. I wonder how long she's been here. How long was I out? I think it must have been a while, because I can feel my body basking in the afterglow of sleep.

"Lena?" I whisper.

Lena immediately puts her phone away and comes over.

"Can I have some water, please?"

She holds the cup to my lips, but a little bit of water spills out and splashes on Jude's forehead. He stirs and mumbles something about an umbrella, and Lena and I meet each other's' eyes, trying not to laugh.

When she sets the glass back on the nightstand I notice someone has placed a whole paper bag of magazines and things on it.

"Who…?" I can't even get out the sentence. My heart starts to pound in my chest. What if they're from—

"Mariana picked out the magazines," Lena interrupts my thoughts, "and Brandon picked out the book. Jude brought you some things too, but I think he wants to show those to you himself."

She hands me a magazine but I can't hold it open with just the fingers on my left hand, and it accidentally hits Jude in the face. He wakes up immediately, and he looks so annoyed when he realizes that he has water on his head that I burst out laughing.

He glares at me as he wipes the water off his forehead, but then he starts smiling too.

Lena is beaming at us, clearly enjoying seeing us so happy. The look on her face makes me a little self-conscious.

"Lena said you had something to show me," I say to Jude. He reaches over to the nightstand and pulls something out of a small wooden drawer.

"We wanted to bring your rabbit, too, but we couldn't find it," he says.

My breath catches.

I completely forgot about my rabbit. My mother gave it to me when I was three years old. I held it so often I rubbed off one eye, and I cried into it for so many years after she died that the fur looks like a dead rat's. But I loved it, more than anything I've ever owned. That rabbit and my necklace were all I had of my mother's. And now I've lost them both. One's in a plastic bag in an evidence warehouse somewhere. And my rabbit…I know where it was. I'll never see it again

Something shiny slides into my lap, and I pick it up. Jude has handed me a card in a gold envelope. I try to open it, but eventually he  
has to do it. I can see him glancing at the casts on my arms, but he pretends to be absorbed in opening the envelope without tearing it. I can tell he's trying to be strong for me, and the thought makes me feel terrible. By getting in this position, have I stolen what little of his childhood he had left?

Jude holds the card up for me so that I can see it. On the front there's a picture of a little girl hugging a little boy. He opens it up and tears spring to my eyes. In big shiny letters it says, "You are loved." I clear my throat, trying to keep the tears at bay. I can see that every member of the family has written me a note inside, but I can't read them because my eyes are swimming.

I can tell Jude's trying to read my face. He bites his lip, clearly worried because I'm not saying anything.

"Was it the wrong card?" He asks.

That brings my voice back.

"No, baby, it's perfect. I love it." He looks so relieved that I know I've said the right thing. I can tell Lena isn't fooled though. Her forehead is wrinkled, and she's looking at me so intently it's like she can see right into my thoughts. Sometimes I wish she wasn't so smart.

"Thank you," I tell Jude. Lena must be able to see how hard I'm fighting to keep it together because she says, "Jude, I think Callie needs some more water. Could you take this pitcher out to the nurse's desk in the hall and wait while they get some?"

Jude immediately slides off the bed and heads out with the pitcher, turning his head to look at us as he opens the door. Lena closes the door behind him and I stare up at the ceiling, begging myself to hold it in.

"Callie?"

Her voice is so warm, so confused, so concerned, that tears spill over. I try to wipe them off with my fingers but manage to scrape the rough cast against my bruised cheek, and it kills.

"What is it? Is it the card?"

I start to shake my head, then immediately wince. My brain is too bruised to be bouncing around.

"Please tell me," Lena says. She reaches out and wipes the tears off my face with a tissue.

I can't tell her how the words in that card make me feel. I am not loved; I've never been loved. Not like that, like those happy little kids on the card who look so innocent. Any chance I had to be loved by the Fosters, I threw away when I kissed Brandon. And my rabbit…I don't want to tell her the truth, but I guess I owe it to her. This may be the only one of her questions I can answer honestly.

"The rabbit my mother gave me—I took it with me. It was in the bag I dropped outside the bus terminal when Liam—when he grabbed me. I'll never see it again. Someone probably stole it a long time ago."

To my surprise, Lena whips out her phone and starts typing buttons.

"Um, Lena?"

She holds up a finger and scrolls down her phone, then presses a button and holds the phone to her ear.

"Hi, yes, I need to speak to somebody about a lost bag? It would have been left outside your terminal two nights ago."

She covers the mouthpiece with her hand and whispers, "What did the bag look like, Callie?"

I realize my mouth is half-open.

"Blue," I get out. "Blue duffel."

"It's a blue duffel bag," she repeats. "No, we just became aware it was missing. Yes. Yes. Callie Jacobs. Yes. You do? When can I pick it up? Okay, someone will come and get it by four. Thank you."

Lena hangs up the phone and smiles at me.

"If there's one thing you know when you work in a school, it's how many things you can find in a Lost-and-Found," she says.

I have no words. I can't even say thank you. Lena holds a cup of water to my lips, then tucks the messed up blankets back around me.

I know Jude is going to be back with the pitcher in a minute, and I have to say something.

"Thanks." It's all I can manage without dissolving into tears again.

"Don't give it another thought," Lena says. "Nothing about this is going to be easy, Callie. But some problems are easier to fix than others."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jude:**

I'm not stupid. I know Callie was really upset when I gave her that card. I thought she'd like it. She never believes anyone loves her, except maybe for me. I thought when she saw what everyone wrote, she'd believe it.

The nurses hand me a pitcher of water and I bring it back into the room. Callie's eyes look a little red. I feel awful. I wanted to make her feel better; not make her cry.

The door opens behind me as I'm setting the pitcher down. It's the doctor, the one who told me about Callie. I blush a little when I remember how I cried on his shirt. I'm too old to do that. The doctor doesn't seem to mind though. He smiles at me as he comes in and asks how I'm doing. I tell him I'm okay, but I'm distracted because I can see Callie's face, and she looks absolutely terrified of him.

"Do you have to—the stitches—do we need to send Jude out?" She finally asks the doctor.

I look between them, confused. Why do I have to leave?

"No, no, not until tomorrow. I'm just here to check in."

Callie looks relieved, but I could see her flinch when he said "tomorrow." I don't ask any questions, even though I really want to know. I don't want to make Callie cry again. But I can't imagine what the doctor could do that would put that look on her face. Whatever it is, it must be really painful. I hate having Callie be in so much pain.

Lena pulls me away from Callie's bed and picks up the TV remote.

"Jude, can you find us a movie to watch?" she asks me. I wish she'd stop doing that. Trying to get me out of the way, and pretending I'm doing her some big favor.

"Do you want me to go?" I ask bluntly. Lena looks surprised.

"No! It's just…" she trails off, looking at Callie.

"I need to look under the bandages on Callie's head," the doctor explains. "It might be unpleasant to look at."

"I don't care," I tell him. "I've seen blood before."

The doctor raises an eyebrow at Lena, who looks at me, troubled. I can tell she wants to take me out of the room herself, but she's holding my sister's hand. I'm not sure if she's holding it for Callie or for  
herself though.

"Jude, find a movie," Callie says. I pick up the remote and start flipping through the channels.

I hear Lena inhale sharply behind me, and instinctively look around.

The cuts on Callie's forehead aren't just bloody. They're bruised and wet-looking, like there's a bunch of pus.

I turn back around to the TV. I wish I'd never seen that.

"Follow the light with your eyes, okay?" The doctor asks Callie. I don't watch what she does, but the doctor sounds happy.

"Any memory problems? Any other symptoms?"

I bet Callie looks at me or whispers something to him, because Lena finally does come over and start to take me out of the room.

"Callie will be able to eat and drink soon, right?" she asks the doctor, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Tell you what, why don't you go ahead and grab a cup of Jello, and we'll see how she does," he replies.

I don't argue this time. I let Lena take me into the hall. There's something Callie doesn't want to say in front of me. And I'm not going to make her.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Stef:**

It takes all my energy to keep from putting my head down on the desk. We've been over my statement a hundred times.

Everyone hates the agents from Internal Affairs; they treat cops like they're criminals if there's any accusation of wrongdoing. Even if that accusation is from someone like Liam Olmstead. My union representative is doing his best to defend me, but IAB agents are like sharks. When they smell blood, there's no stopping them. And in this case, that blood apparently came when I hit Liam in the head when I collared him.

"Look," I say tiredly, "I knew from my wife's voicemails that Liam was attacking the house. Mike went in the back, and I was approaching the front door. I could hear them arguing, and I knew if I kicked the door in and it hit them, I wouldn't have a clear shot."

"That explains why you hadn't entered yet," says one of the agents, a man named Pierce. "Why did you hit the suspect when he was fleeing instead of telling him to freeze?"

I sigh. We have been over this again and again.

"When I was trying to gage my entry time, the door opened and the suspect came running out. I pursued. I could see that he was armed, and I already knew he was dangerous. I am certain that if I had told him to stop before I could subdue him, he would have attacked me. Disorienting him was the best way to gain the upper hand and keep him from threatening me with the knife. If he had done that, I would have had to shoot him."

"You say you already knew he was dangerous. How so? Your wife's statement says she and your son were injured by Mr. Olmstead, but you had not spoken with her at that time."

I realize immediately what they're trying to do. I've already stepped right in it.

"Liam Olmstead fled to my house from a house his parents own. I found a sixteen year old girl there earlier that night. He raped her and beat her within in an inch of her life. That is how I know that he was dangerous."

"When you say a girl, you are referring to your daughter, aren't you?" Pierce asks me.

I try to keep myself from screaming at him. They're going to twist this around into some weird maternal vendetta.

"Isn't it true, Officer Foster, that you were recently suspended for entering a house with your weapon drawn without waiting for backup?"

I freeze. I can't believe they're using that.

"Wasn't that incident also in response to your _perception_ that one of your children was in peril?" He presses.

My union representative shifts in his seat.

"That is not relevant to the matter at hand," he tells the agents. "Officer Foster was cleared of wrongdoing and reinstated."

"But it does suggest a pattern," the agent persists. "And it is hard to overlook the fact that in that case, your child not only wasn't in danger, he wasn't even in the house."

I have had enough. I look that agent straight in the eyes and make my voice as calm and clear as I can.

"Agent, Liam Olmstead did attack my daughter, but that has nothing to do with the way in which I arrested him. I did not injure him; he never asked for or required any medical attention. I acted in a reasonable manner, with the intention of keeping myself and others safe, and with the intention of sparing Mr. Olmstead's life. How do you think this conversation would be going if I had had to shoot him?"

The agents look at each other. One of them reaches over and turns off the tape recorder.

"Officer Foster, you are suspended from duty until we come to a decision on this case. Please turn in your badge and your service weapon."

My jaw clenches. Slowly, I pull out my gun and badge and rest them on the table.

My union rep and I walk out of the room.

"How do _you_ think that went?" I ask him.

He sighs.

"The complaint is crap, and it comes from an extremely unreliable source. But you admitted that you didn't give the standard warning, which isn't illegal, but to them looks like a willful choice so that you could get revenge."

I take a deep breath.

"What do you think the odds are of me getting my job back?"

I expect him to say "eighty-twenty" or maybe "seventy-thirty" at worst. But instead he looks me in the eyes and says,

"Fifty-fifty."

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**What do ****_you_**** think? Is Stef going to get her job back?**


	32. Chapter 32

**Author's Note: Ontay1 I'm confused...I actually just updated two or three times this weekend. Maybe you're not getting all the chapter notifications? I update very frequently. And as long as interest remains high, this story will run until January.**

**On a serious note: Please keep reviews constructive (someone got a bit on the feeling-hurting end of things, and I had to delete the comment.) I try very hard to make this a story you'll enjoy reading, and I hope you'll enjoy it as much as I enjoy writing it for you. I love reading your reviews, so please keep letting me know what you are thinking, or wondering, or enjoying, or...anything, really. :)**

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**Jesus:**

The three of us are parked in a plastic booth in the food court, eating mounds of junk food so unhealthy that the grease soaks right through the containers. If Lena could see it, she would smack us upside the head. Even Mariana is eating fried dough. I think that's a bad sign. She eats ice cream and stuff, but the last time she ate something like this was when her boyfriend broke up with her.

Brandon's sort of picking at his food. He seemed better when we were in the store, but now that he isn't busy I guess he's brooding again.

I pick up my half-eaten cheeseburger and take a big bite. Mariana shoots me her patented stink eye.

"What?" I mumble, my mouth full.

"You're gross."

I smile at her and lick the mustard off my lips. She looks revolted. So I do it again.

We all jump when Brandon's phone starts clattering against the table, buzzing like a chainsaw. He answers it, and Mariana and I look at each other, our food totally forgotten. Is Callie worse?

Brandon's conversation is completely incomprehensible. I wave my hand in front of his face and mouth "Who is it?" but he just waves me off and turns away.

I think about kicking him under the table, but decide against it. If it is a serious conversation, I don't want to interrupt.

"Who was it?" I repeat again when he hangs up. The expression on his face worries me. He looks…disappointed.

"Lena. She wants me to go pick up Callie's bag at the bus terminal. The one she took with her." He glances down at the shopping bags at our feet. "It probably has her clothes in it."

"Oh." No wonder he's disappointed. He thought he had this great idea, and now it doesn't matter.

"I think we should keep them," Mariana says, beating me to it. "She could use some extra clothes; she never had enough to begin with. If I tried to run away, I'd need six duffel bags. She fit everything she owned in one."

Brandon brightens a little, but he still looks hesitant.

"Are you sure?" he asks us. "We could get the money back."

"No way," Mariana and I say at the same time. I grin. She may be a priss, but she's pretty cool sometimes.

A new thought occurs to me.

"Actually, can I have some of the leftover money? There's something else we need to get."

"What?" Mariana asks.

They weren't in the hallway. They don't know.

The taste of the cheeseburger isn't so good any more.

"A pillow."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Brandon:**

I leave Mariana and Jesus in the car, bickering over the radio as I go inside the bus terminal. There's a big screen with bus information, a couple of chain restaurants serving coffee, and information desks for different bus companies, but no big pile of unclaimed baggage. I look around and spot a Customer Service desk with an elderly guy sitting behind it. He's wearing an American Flag pin next to his nametag, and reading a newspaper.

"Excuse me, sir?" I try to get his attention.

He grunts.

"I'm here to pick up a lost bag?"

He slowly folds his paper and looks up.

"You got I.D.?"

I pull out my license and hand it to him.

"It's a blue duffel bag," I tell him.

He takes my license and goes in the back. I wait, tapping my fingers on the counter. After about five minutes he comes back, shaking his head. His hands are empty.

"There's no blue duffel back there under that name."

"It's my sister's bag," I clarify. "Callie Jacobs."

He looks back down at the license.

"This says your last name is Foster."

Frustration starts building inside me, and I have to force myself to stay calm.

"She's my foster-sister."

"Oh your "_foster_" sister," he says sarcastically. "I get it. Very clever. Nice try, kid. We don't just hand over lost bags to anyone. Tell the girl to come get it herself."

"She CAN'T!" I explode. "She's in the hospital, because a stalker kidnapped her from outside _your_ bus station, and now I have to pick up her bag because she dropped it while he was kicking the living shit out of her!"

The entire terminal has gone silent and is staring at me like I'm completely insane. The guy disappears into the back again, and I think he's going to call the cops, but in a moment he's back with the blue duffel bag. He hands me back my driver's license.

"Sorry kid," he mutters. "Tell your sister I hope she feels better."

I don't trust myself to speak without screaming or sobbing, so I just take the bag and turn to go. I ignore the stares and mutters of the people who've stopped eating their donuts and are turning to watch me as I walk out the door, carrying my kidnapped sister's bag. I toss it in the trunk and am about to slam the lid when I notice something. Sprinkled across the top are several very small black dots. I lean in to examine them, then pull back so fast I hit my head on the raised trunk lid.

I pull out my phone and dial Lena.

"Brandon?"

"Lena, I think this bag is evidence."

"What do you mean?"

"Is Callie listening? Can you go out into the hall?"

It's silent for a few seconds.

"Okay. What is it?"

"The bag has dried blood on it."

Lena makes a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan.

"Okay, Brandon, I need you to call the station and ask for Officer Ruiz, mom's friend. He'll come get it."

"Why don't I just call Mom?" I ask, confused.

"Your mom is busy. Call Officer Ruiz. But before he gets there, I need you to take something out of the bag for me. Don't tell anyone."

I'm completely shocked. Lena, the most moral person in the world, is telling me to basically steal evidence?

Then she tells me what it is, and I understand.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	33. Chapter 33

**Author's Note: **

**Wow, thank you all SO much for your support! I was seriously misty-eyed reading your reviews (I got a bunch of strange looks from people in class, but it was totally worth it.) Thank you all! **

** Mea23 loved your idea about what might be in the bag. Sadly, the police already know she got on the bus in AZ.**

** Jailynn5 and AshLeshawn-welcome! I'm so glad you're enjoying the story, and I look forward to hearing your thoughts as it progresses.**

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**Mariana:**

Brandon looks ridiculous. I know handing that bag over as evidence was probably hard for him, but even after the cops have taken it he's still acting really strange. He's tapping his fingers on the steering wheel and darting looks in his rearview mirror like he thinks someone's following him.

"What happened at the bus station? Did you commit some kind of heist?" I tease him. He looks at me, stricken, and I can tell I've hit on something.

"Wait…what? What did you do?" I ask.

"Nothing!" He snaps. He changes lanes, heading toward the hospital sign.

"Brandon, god, slow down!"

He ignores me and keeps going like the cops are chasing him. He pulls up short at a red light and Jesus, who's trying to drink the rest of his soda from the mall, chokes as the liquid rushes at his face.

"Dude!" He pulls his shirt away from his chest and looks down at it, trying to see the stain.

I lean over and hand Jesus some napkins that were in the side of the door. As I do, I see something wedged between Brandon's back and the seat. I yank it out before the light turns green.

"Mariana, no!"

Brandon turns and lunges for it, but he's still strapped in and the seatbelt pulls him back.

I examine the object. It takes me a second because it's so worn and gross looking, but I see the two flaps of cloth that are undoubtedly ears, and in an instant I know that it's Callie's rabbit. My mouth falls open. "Brandon, did you take this out of her bag?"

"Mariana, give it back!" He undoes his seatbelt and swipes it out of my hand, ignoring the cars honking behind us.

I can't believe it. He did. He shoves the rabbit back behind him as though that will make me forget I saw it. He speeds the rest of the way to the hospital. Right before he gets out he turns around and says "You can't tell _anyone_. Got it? Either of you. If I anyone finds out I tampered with evidence, I could go to jail."

Jesus and I nod, but all I'm thinking is, _Great. Now I have another secret to keep._

The three of us get out of the car. Brandon dumps the clothes from one shopping bag into another, then puts the rabbit inside the empty one and scuttles into the hospital. Jesus and I follow him.

I automatically stop when we get to the waiting room, but Brandon keeps going into the hallway beyond it. He asks directions at the nurses' desk, then stops outside a room with a window in the door. He lifts his hand like he's going to knock, but as Jesus and I catch up to him, he freezes. He's looking through the window into the hospital room, his eyes wide. I duck around his outstretched arm, trying to see what he's looking at. And when I catch sight of Callie, my eyes widen too.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

I'm going to kill Brandon. I see him before the kids do, but before I can get up and tell him to leave, Callie looks up. She sees a face pressed to the door and she shrieks so loudly that Jude spins around with his fists up, looking for someone to fight.

"It's okay! I tell them, "it's just Brandon!"

Callie buries her head in her hands, and Jude looks even more like he wants to fight someone. Puzzled by their reaction, I hurry over to the door and open it, pushing the kids back into the hall. I shut the door behind me and lean against it, blocking the window.

"Brandon, what are you _thinking_? We specifically talked about letting Callie say when she was ready for visitors. You scared her!" My voice comes out angrier than I intend it to, but he should know better.

Brandon hangs his head and mumbles an apology. Mariana and Jesus are hanging their heads too. I cross my arms.

"You all need to go back into the waiting room." Mariana and Jesus turn to go, looking abashed. Brandon doesn't move. He holds out the paper bag he's carrying, and I look inside.

"You got it. Do Mariana and Jesus know?"

He nods.

"Did you tell them to keep it quiet?"

"Yes."

I duck my head down to meet his eyes, which are looking at the floor.

"Thank you for doing that. It will mean a lot to her."

He looks up at me and gives me a half-smile. Then he turns and goes back to the waiting room.

I take the bag and go back into the hospital room. The numbers on the machines are returning to normal as Callie recovers from her scare. I put the bag on the floor in the corner.

"What's that?" Jude asks. He's standing next to the bed, holding Callie's hand.

"Something for later," I tell him. Even if Jude could understand what it means to steal evidence, I don't think he should have to keep that secret. I just wish the same was true of Jesus and Mariana.

"Is it clothes?" Jude asks, eyeing the label on the bag. "I already brought clothes for Callie."

"You did?" Callie gives him a tight smile, but her face is still too pale. "Will you show me?"

Jude picks up the backpack from the top of the nightstand, where it was lying on the other side of the bag from the gift shop. I doubt Callie could even see it from her angle, because she looks surprised when he brings it over.

"That's a lot of clothes," she says.

Jude unzips the top, and starts to pull them out, making a small mound on Callie's lap. A pair of sweatpants, a couple shirts, a bra, several pairs of socks and underwear. He takes out the DVDs I chose, and I stack them neatly on the nightstand in case Callie wants to watch one later. Finally Jude digs down to the bottom of the bag and pulls out a sweater.

Callie picks it up, and I don't think I have ever seen her smile so widely.

"It's Judolph!" She says, and she and Jude start to giggle.

It's so sweet and childlike that I have to suppress a smile, but I turn my head and pretend to be sorting through the DVDs so that they can have a moment together without being self-conscious because I'm listening.

"Remember the jelly?" Jude says to Callie.

"I remember the oven mitt!" She laughs, and they both giggle some more.

"Did we hang those antlers on the tree that year?" Jude asks her.

"No, you wore them. I wore the angel wings I made for the school pageant, and mom wore her big Christmas tree sweater, and Dad put on a Santa Hat."

"Yes! And we had hot chocolate, right?" Jude's eyes are shining and his voice is brimming with eagerness.

"Oh yeah. Every year. And candy canes. Mom used to put them right in her mug."

Out of the corner of my eye I can see Callie running her fingers over the sweater. She's still smiling, but her eyes look a little sad.

"I found a Christmas tree sweater!" Jude says, "In Mariana's drawer. She said I could have it. So we both have Christmas sweaters."

Did she? That's news to me. It explains why he was sleeping with one last night though. I make a mental note to tell Mariana how happy her old sweaters are making them.

Callie reaches her hand out to Jude, and he climbs back up beside her. They look at the sweater together for a while. When the expression on Callie's face becomes too sad, I pull a few DVDs out of the pile and hold them up for her and Jude to look at.

"Opinion time. Which one first?"

Callie looks at Jude. He points to Aladdin.

"That one."

"Oooh, that's a great one!" I tell him. "Have you seen it before?" He and Callie both shake their heads. I pull out the tray table that's standing on a swinging arm on the other side of the bed, and set my laptop on it. I insert the DVD, and sit back and watch as their faces light up at the cartoons and colors and singing. I have learned more about these children today than I have in the months since they came to live with us.

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	34. Chapter 34

**Author's Note:**

**Thank you all so much for your kind words and your support. I was getting all misty-eyed while I was reading your reviews. (I got a lot of funny looks from people in class, but it was totally worth it.) :)**

**Enjoy, and please keep reviewing! **

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**Callie:**

By the time the movie is over my eyes are drooping and I can barely keep my head up. My head is starting to pound again. I press the morphine button, but even as the warmth starts spreading through me, I'm already falling asleep.

The morphine mixes with the cartoons from the movie, and all of a sudden I'm caught in an endless kaleidoscope of spinning colors. They're too loud, too bright, like a carnival gone wrong. I'm wishing for darkness, that they'd go away so I could sleep, but then I remember what lives in the darkness, and the colors change until they have faces, monstrous faces surrounding me as I lie on a floor in the dark.

Something hard hits me in the face and I wake up. It's my cast. I was holding it up in my sleep, to protect myself from the monsters. I must have hit myself with it.

I barely feel like I slept at all, but the lights are out now, and no more sunlight is coming through the window. I turn my head to look for Jude, but he isn't here. I'm scared until I hear Stef's voice.

"Hey, are you all right?" She takes my arm, which I'm still holding up in front of my face, and eases it back down to the bed.

"Nightmares?"

I shrug my left shoulder.

"Hmm. Well, we could watch a movie. Play cards. Throw a football around."

I raise an eyebrow at her and she grins.

"Just had to see if your sense of humor was still intact. It appears to be functioning beautifully."

She lifts my head slightly and fluffs up my pillow. I realize she's not wearing her uniform anymore.

"Did Jude go home?" I ask her.

"Kicking and screaming all the way," she jokes.

"That's good. He's too young to live at a hospital."

Now it's Stef's turn to raise an eyebrow.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm young too," I finish for her. The corner of her mouth twitches.

"The doctor came in last night. He says he's going to have you up and moving around tomorrow."

"Him and what army?" I ask her, gesturing as best as I can to the various pieces of plaster weighing me down.

She laughs.

I love this about Stef. She can jump headfirst into the most awful situations and just make you feel like everything is going to be okay.

"Stef?"

"Yes, love?"

"Has anybody tried to talk to you—I mean, they haven't asked me—no one's asked what happened."

She smiles at me, but it's a different smile now. Forced.

"We've been holding them off for a couple days until you felt better. I imagine they'll probably come tomorrow. Do you think you're ready?"

I don't know what to say. Of course I'm not ready. Am I? Does it even matter?

"I don't have a choice, right?" I ask her.

Her lips gets smaller, as though she's angry.

"Not much of one, no. I'm sorry."

I twitch my mouth to the side, and we both sort of accept that. At least she's honest.

"Will you be here?"

Stef gets a faraway look on her face, and I'm instantly worried.

"What? What is it?"

"Don't worry about it. You just tell the officers the truth. I might not be able to sit in for it, but if I'm not here, Lena will be."

"Why can't you be?" I try to keep from sounding too whiny, but I'm starting to panic. I love Lena, but Stef's been here through all the hardest stuff so far. When I woke up; when the doctor had to check my stitches. She makes me feel safe.

"Callie, I was the one who found you."

I try to let that sink in. I try to figure out what I'm feeling, what I'm thinking. But I don't know what to feel or think. Or say. A thousand things run through my mind all at the same time.

"What—where was I?"

"You were in the basement of a house."

"Whose house?"

It's a stupid question, but I still need to hear the answer.

"It belongs to the Olmsteads."

The name twists my stomach, but I will not throw up. I will not cry. There has been far too much of that already.

"Oh," I say. Because I have to say something. A thought occurs to me, and it's so terrible and so humiliating that I wince. I know I was unconscious when she found me because I don't remember her coming in. But I don't know where Liam was or what he was doing.

"What was he—was he—did you see…anything?" I don't know how to ask the question, but I think she knows what I'm trying to ask.

"He was already gone when I came in the house. You were alone. You had a blanket over you." Her smile is still forced, and I know there's something she's not telling me. I can't imagine what I looked like, but I know what I felt. The blood, the vomit. The pain. My twisted arm. I imagine opening the door and seeing another member of my family like that. It's not something anyone should have to see.

"I'm sorry," I tell her.

"It's my job, Callie. As a cop and a mother."

She can't understand it, but every time she and Lena say something like that, I just feel worse. I broke their trust. I don't deserve the kindness they're showing me right now.

I remember Brandon looking through the hospital door at me today. I've been hiding from him, for as long as I can. From the others too, but mostly from Brandon. I don't know what to say to him. What if he's angry at me? Or worse, what if he feels guilty and I have to comfort him and tell him it's not his fault? I'm not sure how much comfort I have left in me for someone else. Jude. Stef. Maybe Lena. But Brandon? I'm not sure I could do it. And if I agree to see everyone but him, Stef and Lena would get suspicious. If I don't want to get kicked out, I have to see him eventually. And I don't know if I'll ever be able to look at him again without thinking of everything that's happened.

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**Jude:**

Callie's lying in the hospital bed, blood oozing out of the cuts on her forehead. New bruises keep forming on her face, like someone invisible is hitting her. I try to go help her but the faster I run to her the farther the bed slips away, so I turn around to get help but there's a face in the window of the door. It's Liam, and he's laughing at me as he presses a remote control, making Callie scream. Then his face changes and it's Brandon, Brandon is holding the remote, and Callie's screaming gets louder…

"Jude?"

I sit up in bed, sweat pouring down my face. Jesus is sitting at his desk, staring at me.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah," I lie. Jesus gives me a weird look, like he doesn't believe me.

"Want me to get Lena?"

"No. I'm fine." I lie back down, hoping he'll ignore me, and after a minute he puts on his head phones and turns back to his computer.

I quietly fold back the covers and tiptoe down the stairs. I'm so thirsty I feel like someone stuck me in the desert for a week. I go into the kitchen to get a glass of water, but stop short in the doorway. Brandon is sitting at the kitchen table, staring at a biscuit he's holding in his hand. I try to back out before he sees me, but he looks up.

"Oh. Hi," he says, putting the biscuit down.

My dream flashes back in front of my eyes, my sister screaming while Brandon tortured her with the remote in his hands. Her real scream in the hospital when she saw his face at her door.

"Stay away from her."

Brandon looks surprised, but he doesn't say anything. He just stares down at the biscuit on his plate.

I know I should leave, but I stand still, wanting to say so much more to him. This stupid boy ruined everything for us. Callie will never be okay again. She's going to be scared for the rest of her life.

"You leave her alone," I tell him, my voice sharp, "she's scared of you." He still doesn't say anything, and his silence makes me so mad I feel myself going red.

"I'll _kill_ you if you try to kiss her again!" I burst out. The words are out of my mouth before I know what I'm saying, but I don't want to take them back.

I grab an empty glass and leave the kitchen, ignoring the hurt look on Brandon's face. I go upstairs and fill it at the bathroom sink, but instead of drinking it I turn the water on in the bathtub and sit down and cry.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam:**

I don't think there's anything I hate more than doing laundry. I still make my mother do it when I'm home, and now I have to spend hours washing sweaty jumpsuits for a couple thousand prisoners. When it's nearly time for lights out, the guards lead us back to the main population. I sit down on a metal bench, irritated at the fabric scratching my legs. The orange jumpsuit chafes. I pull out the elastic waistband, letting the air cool the itchy red mark the cloth has left against my skin.

A strong hand grabs my shoulder and I turn around. There's an enormous black guy towering over me. I'm 6'2 and no slouch, but he must be 6'8 and he looks like he does nothing but lift weights all day.

"So this is the perv," he says in a thunderous voice. My back begins to sweat.

"You've got the wrong guy," I tell him.

"That's not what we heard. We heard you raped a little girl. How old was she? Twelve? Thirteen?"

"I didn't rape anybody. I had sex with my sixteen-year-old girlfriend and her parents sent me to jail. They're old-school."

My underarms are sweating now. I try to look as young and honest as I can. I don't think this guy will be impressed by toughness. I glance around for the guards, but they're intentionally looking away. Someone must have spread this information around.

The guy grabs my other shoulder and jerks me off the bench. Two of his friends lunge forward and grab my arms, and the black guy punches me straight in the nose. I feel lightning in my cartilage as my nose breaks, sending two rivers of blood over my mouth. The guy keeps going, hitting me in the stomach, forcing me to my knees, until the guards come over and pull him off. My eyes are tearing from my broken nose, but I can still see the guards' faces. They look bored.

Two of them help me up and guide me to the infirmary. I flinch as a doctor begins to pack my nose, but when I catch sight of myself in a window I start laughing in my head. I wish I could send those guys a "Thank You" card.

My bail hearing is tomorrow.

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	35. Chapter 35

**Author's Note: WARNING Some graphic content. **

**Please keep reviewing! Are people feeling like I'm updating ****_too_**** frequently? I can cut back if that will make the story more enjoyable. **

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**Jesus:**

The ride to the hospital is really quiet. Mariana and Brandon are leaning back against the seat and listening to their iPods, and Jude has his eyes closed and his forehead pressed against the window. I know the kid hasn't been sleeping. He's always a little pale, but this morning he looks like someone dunked him in a bucket of white-out, and he's got bags under his eyes.

Mama says to leave him alone, but I can tell she's worried about him. She tried to make him eat a big pile of pancakes at breakfast, but he barely ate anything, even though they're his favorite. I didn't even take them, I felt so bad for him. I left his plate in the fridge in case he wants it later.

Mom called earlier and said that Callie's going to be up and walking around today and she thinks it might be a good time to come see her. I'm not sure if Callie thinks so, or just mom. I want to see Callie, but I don't know if it's such a good idea for Brandon and Mariana. Mariana seemed pretty shaken up when she saw Callie through the door, and she wouldn't talk about it afterwards. Brandon either.

At least this time I remembered to take my pill and bring my laptop, so the worst that can happen is we spend another few hours chilling in the waiting room.

Lena pulls the car over in front of the main entrance, and I look up at her, surprised.

"Why aren't you parking?" I ask her.

She glances at Jude, who's still out.

"I have to go to the bail hearing."

My jaw drops.

"They're going to give him _bail_?"

"Shhh!" Lena hushes me, looking at Jude and Mariana. Mariana and Brandon take their earbuds out.

"What's going on?" Brandon asks.

"I have an errand to run. You guys go in. Have Jude tell Mom you're here. No going in Callie's room until she says it's okay. Got it?"

We all nod, and Lena puts a gentle hand on Jude's shoulder.

"Jude, it's time to wake up. We're at the hospital."

Jude opens his eyes and immediately unbuckles his seatbelt. He's got a red patch on his forehead where it was pressed against the window. The three of us get out of the car and Lena drives off. I watch her car disappear. If Liam gets out, how will we protect Callie? And what about the rest of my family?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Stef:**

Watching Callie have her stitches checked is one of the worst things I've ever seen in my life. Yesterday it broke her down so much she was throwing up. Today, nothing. She cries out as the doctor eases her legs apart, but then she doesn't make another sound. I'm holding her hand, but her fingers are limp in mine, and she's staring at the ceiling like she can see herself reflected in it. The doctor reaches for some antibacterial wipes and I grip her hand more tightly, but Callie doesn't even seem to notice. She's completely shut down, staring upwards with wide, dead eyes. I never thought I'd want her to be throwing up or crying like she was yesterday, but seeing her check out like this is worse.

The doctor finishes and stands up.

"You're doing a lot better, Callie. I think it's time we take you off the catheter, and get you moving around. You ready?"

Callie's still staring at the ceiling, but she gives an almost imperceptible nod. I'm sure she's lying, but I don't say anything. The doctors made me move around as soon as possible after my surgery too. They said it prevents blood clots and creates better blood flow so your body can heal. Given Callie's injuries, I'm not sure she can handle it. But she's tough, and I know she's going to try her damnedest.

A nurse comes in and starts to lift up the sheet to take out Callie's catheter, but I stop her.

"Callie, do you want me to go?"

Callie nods.

I leave the room. A microscopic, emotional part of me is disappointed that she wanted me to leave, but the rest of my brain understands. She needed me to get through the pain of checking the stitches, and she needed my presence to remind her she was safe while a man examined her body. But this isn't painful or frightening; it's humiliating for her. She needs to get some control of her body back. Hopefully having the catheter taken out and moving around will help that.

I wait outside until the nurse calls me back in.

"We're going to go very slowly today," the nurse tells us. "Just to the bathroom, so you can try."

Callie turns red and she won't look at me. The nurse presses a button to raise the back of the bed. Callie's blood pressure goes up on the monitor, and I can tell this position is hurting her ribs.

The nurse notices too.

"It will feel a lot better when you're standing," she tells Callie. Callie nods. The nurse pulls the blankets back from the bed, and I hesitate. It didn't occur to me before, but Callie is naked under her hospital gown. She's tiny and the hospital gown is tied, but when she starts moving around…

I reach into the backpack full of clothes that the kids brought for her and pull out some underwear and sweatpants and hand them to the nurse. I go outside again. It takes a while before the nurse calls me back. I'm guessing they had a hard time squeezing the clothing over the cast on her right leg.

When I come back Callie's not only dressed, her right arm has been taken out of the device holding it in place and positioned in a sling that's bound to her body. I can tell even without looking at the monitors that she's in a lot of pain. Many of the tubes and wires are dangling off the machines, no longer connected to her arms. The nurse hands Callie a couple of pills and some water, and she takes them quickly.

"Antibiotics and pain pills," the nurse tells me. The sight of the pills makes me feel weak. There's something else I forgot. I can't believe I didn't remember to ask.  
"Nurse?" I motion her into the hallway. When the door shuts behind us I ask,

"Was Callie given some kind of morning after pill?"

The nurse nods.

"Standard practice after a rape. Even when no fluids are present."

I exhale. I, of all people, should have remembered to ask that the moment she came out of surgery, but between the worry over Callie and the anxiety about my job enquiry, I completely forgot.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie:**

Getting out of bed is impossible. I try to help, but I can't push up with my arms and I can't use my stomach muscles well because of my ribs, so the most I can do is not resist as everyone hauls me around like a sack of flour. It feels like it takes half an hour of torture before Stef, the nurse, and an orderly have me sitting up with my legs hanging off the bed. I'm ready to lie back down and jam the morphine back into my arm, but that clearly isn't going to happen. They let me take a minute to rest though, and hand me some water to drink before I have to stand up.

The nurse brings over a walker with tennis balls on the bottom, like people use in nursing homes. The nurse and the orderly wrap an arm around my back and pull me to a standing position.

My head spins and I nearly fall over on top of them, but they catch me and hold me steady while the blood rushes away from my head. I haven't stood up in days, and my vision is going grey at the edges.

After a minute the head rush stops and I can see again. My heart is racing, but no machines go off. They took off the wires so I could move around.

I try to hold on to the walker with my left hand but the metal handle bumps against my cast, and I can't curl my fingers around it. My right arm is in a sling that's tied to my body, so that hand is useless. Finally the nurse seems to realize it can't be done, and she takes the walker away. She and the orderly keep an arm around me, supporting my weight, while Stef hovers anxiously behind me. I wonder if she's expecting me to faint.

I refuse to give in. I take a tiny step, and I have to bit the inside of my lip to keep from yelling. The tiniest step feels like I'm being drawn and quartered.

Unbelievably slowly, I take another step, and then another. Stef, who has apparently decided I'm not going to pass out, has come around in front and is standing by the bathroom door, waiting for me like I'm a toddler who's learning how to walk. I guess I kind of am. I have never felt this young and this old at the same time in my life. At least, not physically.

The minutes drag by. I have to stop and rest every couple of steps. My right leg is throbbing in its cast, but my left one is okay, so I try to lean all my weight on it. I know right away that that is a mistake. The nurse struggles as I tilt towards her, and Stef lunges forward to help. I guess it is good she was so close by. Stef basically elbows the nurse out of the way, and starts carrying me herself. With her help, the steps come a little faster. I can feel my muscles creaking apart, trying to loosen after so many hours lying still. The internal pain is indescribable. I wasn't awake for what Liam did to me. But every step is a reminder that he did it.

By the time we reach the bathroom door that's on the other side of the room, I'm panting and sweating like I've run a marathon. The orderly starts to pull over a chair for me, but the nurse stops him.

"It will be easier if you can stay standing," she tells me. I want to collapse, but I nod and grip Stef's arm as tightly as my fingers can manage. She's incredibly strong for someone so thin. She could probably carry me around this room, casts and all.

I look up at her. Her eyes are worried but she looks proud, too. She smiles at me, a real smile.

"It's time to try in the bathroom," the nurse says.

"Ooh! Me next!" Stef raises her hand. I burst out laughing, my embarrassment ebbing away.

Stef helps the nurse get me inside, then she goes back into the room before I even have to ask her. She gets things, that woman.

The nurse helps me sit down on the toilet seat.

"You remember what we talked about?'

I do.

But that in no way prepares me for the amount of dried blood that comes out.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Next time...who's ready for some sibling reunions?**


	36. Chapter 36

**Author's Note: Thanks to all of you for your kind words. It really encourages me to keep writing! **

**This is actually one of my favorite chapters, so please let me know what you think! I would love to hear your reviews on it. **

**Brandon:**

My heart is beating like crazy as we follow my Mom down the hall to Callie's hospital room. I wish I could turn and run.

I stop my mom from opening the door.

"Mom? Are you sure Callie wants all of us to go in at once? Maybe she should start with just Mariana or something."

My mom looks puzzled.

"She specifically said she wants all of you at the same time. Do you not want to go in?"

I'm stuck. I can't back out, not without raising some serious questions.

"No, of course I do," I lie through my teeth. "I was just worried about her getting overwhelmed."

"Well, that's nice of you, but she's fine. We'd better not stay all afternoon though."

My chest feels tight, and it's hard to breathe normally.

_It's just Callie_, I try to tell myself. But there's no "just" about Callie.

My mom opens the door, and we all go in.

I have to force myself not to stop dead in the doorway.

I saw Callie yesterday through the window in the door, and since then I haven't been able to sleep, or eat, or think about anything else than the casts on her arms and the army of machines connected to her. But from that far away, I hadn't seen the worst things. She's incredibly pale, like there's no blood left inside her. There's a third cast on her leg which I didn't notice from the door. Her bruises are ten times worse up close; they spread out in a whole rainbow of colors across her face. And she looks fragile; not like the tough, stubborn girl who told me I was a jackass and made me fall in love with her. This is a Callie I don't know.

Mariana has a big fake smile plastered on her face. She leans down and gives Callie a hug. Callie lifts up the cast to hug her back, but she winces when she tries to lift her head up.

My mom goes over to the bed and hits a button. Callie's bed rises. For a minute a look of pain flits across her face, even though I can tell she's trying to hide it. But once the bed is completely upright she relaxes. I remember what the surgeon said about her having broken ribs. If sitting half-way up hurts her, I can't imagine all the other things that must make her hurt also.

Jesus is standing uncomfortably, clearly not sure what to do. When he hugs Callie he's gentler than I've ever seen him, like he thinks she's going to fall to pieces in his arms. To be honest, she looks like she might.

Everyone's waiting, and I move forward automatically, but Jude, who's standing next to Callie's bed, shifts his weight so that he's standing firmly between me and her. He's glaring at me like a guard dog.

I stop and hold out my hand instead. Callie lifts up her arm without looking at me, and I awkwardly shake the fingers sticking out of her cast. They're cold.

Silence takes over the room.

"Well, no point just standing around! Who wants to pick a movie?" Mom asks brightly.

Callie looks a little relieved. She chooses one from the pile, and I put it in.

"Don't they have any decent food in this place?" Jesus asks, looking disgustedly at the little pile of saltines and graham crackers on the nightstand.

Callie smiles and shakes her head slightly. Jesus shrugs and swipes a jello cup, then kicks back in one of the chairs. That makes Callie grin, and for just an instant, I can see the old her shining through.

Jude climbs up onto the bed beside Callie and pulls some permanent markers out of his backpack. Mariana picks up some magazines and a pair of scissors. I sit down in the arm chair on the other side of the bed, trying to ignore the fact that Callie is only a foot away. Out of the corner of my eye I can see her glancing at me. Then both of us train our eyes on the screen.

By the end of the movie Jesus has eaten all five jello cups, and Mom asks me to come with her to the cafeteria to get some snacks for everyone. I'm glad for the chance to get out of the room, but as soon as we're halfway down the hall, my mom puts out a hand to stop me.

"What's going on with you, B?"

I hate that she can always see when something's bothering me. What can I possibly tell her? _I illegally kissed my foster sister and she ran away and almost got killed?_ No, thank you. Not only do I not want to talk to her about that, I could still get Callie in major trouble. I have to say something though; her eyes are sharp, and she's demanding an answer.

"I'm just…tired."

I can tell she doesn't believe me. Her eyes are searching my face, like she's trying to detect the truth.

"I wasn't born yesterday, love. What's going on with you and Callie?"

I tense up. How much does she suspect?

"We had kind of a fight," I lie, "before she left."

My mom raises her eyebrows.

"What kind of fight?"

I'm cursing myself. Saying we had a fight is better than saying we kissed, but not by much. My parents can't think there's anything going on between me and Callie that's in any way different than what goes on between Mariana or Jesus and Callie. And I've just singled us out.

"About Liam," I continue, trying to think on my feet. "I said she should have lied to get him jail time. She was upset, and she ran away."

My mom leans back, exhaling in a way that makes me think I've just said the worst possible thing.

"Brandon, why would you do that? Callie told the truth. You blamed her for telling her own story in open court?"

My cheeks burn. My mother thinks I'm a monster.

"I just…was stupid," I tell her, lamely.

"Yeah. That was stupid," she says bluntly. "But B, that doesn't mean that this is your fault."

I can feel tears forming. This, at least, I can be honest about.

"Callie ran away because of me. If I hadn't done what I did, she never would have gotten hurt."

Mom pulls me into a hug, and I let myself rest my head on her shoulder. I need her comfort so badly.

"Callie got hurt because Liam chose to hurt her. You chose to say something stupid and hurt her feelings. She made the choice to run away. And Liam made the choice to take her. You are only responsible for your part of that. Understand?"

I nod, blinking to try to get rid of the tears stuck to my eyelashes.

"Alright, then. Let's go get some food."

She steers me towards the cafeteria. I can't help but wonder if this is what Mariana felt like for the last few months. I don't know how she stood it. Secrets like this will eat you alive.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Mariana:**

Sitting here is one hundred kinds of awkward. Callie's in the bed looking like death warmed over, Jesus is eating everything in sight so he won't have to talk, and mom clearly took Brandon out of the room on purpose. I keep cutting pages out of the magazines as they walk out, but Jude stops drawing on Callie's cast and they look at each other like they're having a whole conversation with their eyes, the way my moms do.

The movie is over, and after a few minutes the silence becomes too awkward to bear, so I pick up a pile of magazine pages and put them on Callie's lap.

"See any pictures you like?"

She messes around with them for a few moments while I keep cutting, then hands me back about half a dozen.

I find the roll of scotch tape in my bag and take the pictures over to the wall opposite her bed.

"Which ones do you want where?"

Callie consults with Jude, and they direct me while I hang the pictures on the wall. Jesus keeps yelling directions like he's taking pictures of fashion models.

"A little more to the left. No, the right. Down. Down. Down. Back to the left. No, I mean right!"

At first I want to throw something at him, but Callie starts smiling and I'm so grateful to him for making her happy that I start smiling too. I finish hanging the pictures and step back.

"Are they straight?" I ask Callie.

Jesus starts to say something and I tell him to shut up.

Callie and Jude are laughing at us, and I can't help but notice how much more relaxed they are with Brandon out of the room. I'm glad, but it also worries me. How are things ever going to be okay between everyone when we're all back at home?

I step back near the bed and look at the pictures.

"Perfect!" I declare. Callie nods and looks up at me, and her eyes are warm.

"Thank you," she says.

Tears start rising in my throat. I want to tell her that this is what sisters are for, but I'm not sure if I should. I don't want to upset her.

"Anytime," I tell her.

Jude comes over and hugs me. I can tell he's as grateful to see Callie happy as I am.

"Did you bring it?" He asks me.

"Yes! I forgot, it's in my bag." I reach into the outside pocket and fish out a small thing of blue nail polish.

"Callie first!" He says excitedly. Nail polish is way out of Callie's comfort zone, but she doesn't object. I have her hold her cast out straight on the tray table, and I carefully paint her nails. Her mouth twitches a little, like she's trying not to laugh, but she doesn't say anything until I finish.

"I think we're going to have a problem doing both hands," she says. I glance at the arm in the sling.

"Can you hold your fingers out straight? Like, rest your palm on your body but keep your fingers flat?"

She does, but her face is blank and I can't tell whether or not it's hurting her.

"You okay?" I ask her. She nods.

I pull my chair up to the edge of the bed and try to dab polish on her right hand. The nails are sideways and I make a pretty bad mess of it, but she doesn't seem to mind. I tell Jude to blow on her right hand, and Callie looks so funny huffing and puffing on her left fingers that I can't help grinning.

She glares at me. "Something funny?"

"Have you ever worn nail polish in your life?" I ask her, chuckling.

"Not since I was seven."

"Well, at least _one_ of you appreciates it." I scoot my chair to the other side of the bed and place Jude's hands on the tray table. He grins. Callie eyes are trained on his face, drinking in his happiness. I want to throw my arms around them both. I am so glad that Jude thought of this.

Jude's nails are easy, and between the three of us we convince Jesus to surrender. He complains, but in a few minutes he's dangling his painted nails delicately in front of his face and batting his eyelashes while Callie grins at him. I'm trying to teach Jude how to finish the nails on my right hand when Mom and Brandon come back in.

It's like someone flips the "off" switch on our fun. Jude gets distracted and paints a blue streak across my knuckle, then starts apologizing like crazy. The smile disappears from Callie's face, and Jesus stops acting like a dork.

My mom takes in the scene and I can see she's startled by the change, but she just says, "Lunch time!" and plunks a pile of containers down on the tray table.

Brandon sort of lurks by the door, clearly unsure what to do. I wish I could yell at him to go away or sit down or do anything besides standing there making everything worse.

"I'm kind of tired," Callie says suddenly. It's so obviously a lie that I have to be careful not to look over at Brandon.

"I bet you are, sweets. Let's just try to get some food in you and then we'll call it a day, okay?" Mom hands her a piece of bread with some Jelly on it, then passes out sandwiches to the rest of us. Jude hops back up onto the bed next to Callie, but he looks sort of stiff and guarded. We eat quietly until my mom notices the pictures on the wall.

"Whose idea was this?" She asks, examining them.

"Mariana's," Callie tells her.

"They really liven the place up. Good thinking, love."

She kisses me on the forehead, and I blush.

"No big deal," I tell her.

"Hey, I'm the one who did all the work!" Jesus cuts in. "If it weren't for me they'd be six inches from the floor!"

I throw a napkin at him and he smirks and dodges it, but really I am thanking God he's here. If he wasn't around to cut the tension, we'd all be drowning in it right now.

Jesus and I make some small talk about the movie, and after a few minutes everyone's done eating. Callie barely ate anything, though, and I wonder if she really is tired. She looks paler than she did a few minutes ago.

I hug her goodbye while Mom and Brandon clean up the containers and sandwich wrappers.

She catches my wrist and squeezes it with her fingers.

"Thanks," she says quietly.

I put my other hand on top of hers.

"Get better soon, okay?"

She nods but she looks sad, and I wish I could take it back.

"I mean—we miss you. It's too quiet in my room."

That makes her brighten up, and I feel better. Jesus cuts in and acts like he's going to give Callie a bear hug, but I can see how careful he is with her. He's doing his best to make her feel better, but I know he's hurting from seeing her like this.

That leaves Brandon. Jude is sitting straight up on Callie's bed, but mom calls him over to help her pack up the stuff we brought. He looks torn, but Callie nods at him and he reluctantly slides off the bed. I can't help watching as Brandon leans down to hug her; it's like watching a train wreck. She's trying to smile and look unbothered for my mother, but she stiffens when he touches her. Brandon looks heartbroken. I don't know what to say to either of them. Even if it were just the three of us in the room, I wouldn't have any idea how to make this better.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Next time...the bail hearing. Please review!**


	37. Chapter 37

**Everyone,**

**I really appreciate how wonderful so many of you have been. I've really enjoyed reading your reviews. However, some of the reviews are getting rather hurtful. For example, if you find the storyline "boring," there is no need to read the story. I'm not chaining you to the desk and forcing you. It's your choice. If you dislike an element or a plotline, don't tell me to "fix it right now!"—everything I'm writing I write for a reason, and that just sounds juvenile. Please don't tell me to "shut up" about something; that's just rude.**

**I'm taking a break. I've been doing this for fun, and some of these comments are really taking the fun out of it. I've deleted most of them, because I'm not going to reward that kind of thing. I'm going to go work on my papers and exams, and the things I need to do in real life. It's not fair to shut down the story because of a few comments, so I will be back. But I'm taking a few days at least for myself. **

**AK**


	38. Chapter 38

**Hi everyone,**

**I can't thank you enough for how kind you've been. So many of you emailed and said such supportive things, and it really made a world of difference for me when I was having a bad couple of days. Thank you! **

**I've had a much needed break, and even though I'm going to be ridiculously busy this week, I thought you could use a new chapter. I won't be able to update as often, but I'll do my best to keep it going frequently. Please continue to let me know what you think; I welcome your reviews. For the record, this is a dramatic story, and since I'm trying to keep it going a long time, I'm not going to rush Callie's hospital stay. So try to get on board with that (or at least don't say I didn't warn you.) Plenty of new things are going to happen though! For instance, there may be a special guest coming soon...**

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**Lena:**

The court has been running behind all day, and I've spent hours in this hallway, waiting to be called in before the judge. Victims of violent crimes are allowed to speak at bail hearings. Since Callie is in the hospital, I am here to speak for her.

Waiting is torture. No electronic equipment is allowed in the actual court room, so I left everything in the car. I have a book, but I'm far too distracted to read it. My eyes keep slipping down the page without processing anything.

I stopped drinking coffee an hour ago. The impatience and adrenaline are making my muscles twitch until I actually have to stand up and walk around. I'm afraid to go to the bathroom in case I miss my name being called. But the prosecutor says he'll make them wait for me.

Simon's a nice guy. I went to visit him yesterday. He's supposed to be the best, and he said he'll take Callie's case pro bono. Part of me is grateful, but part of me is worried, too. Lawyers don't do anything for free unless they're going to get some other benefit from it. I don't want anyone making their name off of what happened to Callie.

Then again, if he wants to get anything out of this case, he has to win it. And right now, that is the most important thing.

Finally I can't hold it anymore. I go to the bathroom, then wash my hands and dab some water on my wrists. They say it cools you down, but I'm still agitated. I try to accept that it's going to be a long, stressful day, but underneath my nerves fury is burning in my veins.

I look at myself in the mirror. My forehead is wrinkled, my hair isn't staying still, and I look almost as tired as I feel. The stitches on my arm are sore from rubbing against my suit jacket. All I can think about is what this man did to me. To my children. To my daughter, who is lying in a hospital bed experiencing pain I can't even imagine.

I can't let this happen.

I dry my hands and hurry back into the hall. Simon is waiting, and now he looks agitated. He sees me coming towards him and gestures for me to hurry up.

They're ready for us.

We go into the courtroom and a cold shiver runs through me as a door on the side of the room opens. Two guards bring Liam in and chain him to a table. He's wearing a prison jumpsuit and his face is a mess. He's clearly been beaten.

My heart sinks. I remember what Callie's parole officer said about beatings bringing sympathy from the judge. We can't afford sympathy for Liam. If the judge lets Liam out of jail, Callie could be killed.

The judge comes in and begins to listen to the lawyers. Liam's defense attorney makes my blood boil in my veins. He goes on and on about Liam being an "upstanding member of the community," the beating he took in jail, and my personal favorite, that he's never been convicted of a crime. I want to stand up and yell _He raped my daughter_! But because the judge threw out the complaint, the justice system says he's innocent.

I look at this man, this 21-year-old monster who raped a 16-year-old girl, and I want to kill him. He has on that same expression he did at Callie's first rape trial; he looks like a scared little boy and he's hunching his shoulders like he's trying to disappear. And this time, with his bruised face and broken nose, he looks like a wounded puppy in an ASPCA ad.

Simon, my prosecutor, stands up now, and he _is_ good. He describes the charges laid against Liam, Callie's injuries, Jesus's injuries, my injuries. He mentions the intimidation charges being filed because Liam managed to contact Callie in the hospital. Liam's lawyer objects. He plans to file a motion to throw out that evidence…because it came from Stef. The victim's mother. He says that Stef is under investigation for excessive force, and is an unreliable witness.

I'm turning into Mt. Vesuvius.

It takes every ounce of my self-control not to stand up and scream at him, but I know I need to wait. If I get thrown out of the courtroom now, I can't speak on Callie's behalf. And in a system this terrible, she desperately needs someone to speak for her.

"I understand one of the victims would like to make a statement?" The judge asks.

I stand up and walk over to the correct spot.

"Your honor, I would like to make a statement on my own behalf, and on behalf of my foster daughter."

The judge nods.

"Proceed."

I take a deep breath.

"My daughter Callie first met Liam when his family fostered her and her little brother. While she was living with them, Liam sexually assaulted her, but she will never see justice for it. The judge reduced Callie to a few lines in her file and threw out her case.

She was barely fifteen years old when Liam Olmstead stole her innocence. Three days ago, he took it again, and nearly stole her life as well. Callie was legally dead, and it was a miracle she came back to us.

Liam fled from arrest and came to my house where he injured myself and my son, terrorized my three other children, robbed us, and tried to flee. He is more dangerous than you can imagine. Do not let him fool you. He has no conscience. He threatened Callie _while_ he was in custody. And I am certain that if he is not locked up for good, he will kill my daughter.

Callie will never see justice done for the first time Liam raped her. Please do not deny her justice again."

My throat closes and I sit back down, feeling like a leaky dam held together with scotch tape. I've done the best I can do. It's out of my hands.

The judge looks through his papers.

"Mr. Olmstead has no prior record, and it seems clear that being in prison is threatening him with imminent physical harm."

My breath catches. He can't be about to say what I think he's going to say.

"However, given the number and severity of the charges placed against him, it seems that releasing Mr. Olmstead would place several other people in imminent danger as well. The defendant is remanded. He will be detained without bail pending the trial. He will be placed into protective custody until he is no longer at risk from the general population. Furthermore, he is ordered to have no contact of any kind with Callie Jacobs."

The judge bangs his gavel. The hearing is over.

Simon begins to congratulate me, but I can't quite believe my ears.

It worked. Liam is not getting out.

Callie is safe.

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	39. Chapter 39

**Stef:**

I'm coming out of Callie's room with Brandon, Mariana, and Jesus when my cellphone starts to ring. I see the number and my heart starts beating more quickly. It's my union representative.

IAB must have made a decision on the excessive force complaint.

I wave the children through the doors to the waiting room, wipe my hands on my jeans, and pick up the phone.

"Hello?"

"Stef? It's John. Listen, I have some good news and some bad news. The good news is, you still have a job. They're not firing you."

I take a deep breath, afraid to be happy before I know the rest.

"And the bad news?"

"You've been suspended. Two weeks. And there will be a note in your file. Which means that if you get another excessive force complaint, you're going to have an even harder time getting your job back."

My fist clenches so tightly around the phone that I think I'm going to snap it in two.

"How can they do that, John? If they're giving me my job back, they must believe I didn't do anything."

"They're covering their asses, Stef. It's to be expected. I had hoped they'd clear you outright. They should have, the complaint was bogus, but they're bureaucrats. Honestly you're lucky you still have a job."

I bite the inside of my cheek.

"Thanks for letting me know. Thanks for everything."

"No problem. You can pick up your gun after the suspension is over. At least you can take the time to be with your family. How's your girl?"

"She's going to be here a while."

"Jesus, I'm sorry. Take care of business there. I'll talk to you soon."

I hang up the phone and lean back against the wall. A black mark like that on my record will put my job in jeopardy for the rest of my life. Even if it's only a note that a complaint has been made, not substantiated, if there are more complaints I'll get a reputation that IAB can't ignore. Any more complaints, no matter how full of bullshit, and I'll lose my job.

I spin around and lash out at the wall with my fist. Then I see the cops walking toward me down the hall, and I wish I could hit them too.

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**Liam:**

I hang up the phone and hit the wall with my hand. The cop's getting suspended. Not fired. My arrest will stand. And now I'm stuck in this hell-hole until my trial because the judge actually took the word of a couple lesbians and a runaway foster kid. Leave it to me to be pulled in front of the one bleeding heart judge in the courthouse.

The guards come over to take me back to my cell. "Protective Custody" is bullshit. It's Solitary Confinement. 23 hours a day alone in a tiny room. I can't be beaten up anymore, but I could lose my mind before we ever hit trial. There's a metal bed, a small toilet, and practically nothing else. There are cameras monitoring me at all times. I'm still on suicide watch.

There's nothing left to do but sit down on the end of my metal bunk and try to figure out what comes next. Robbery and assault are bad, but they don't carry the same kind of jail time as rape and attempted murder. If I want to serve my time in prison without being killed by the other guys, I need to get out of the rape charge. And to do that, I'm going to need some help.

I think I know who to contact. There's only one thing I can think of for plan B, and it could backfire big time. But it's the best chance I've got.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jude:**

Watching Brandon hug Callie made me feel like steam was coming out of my ears. She clearly didn't want to; I could tell. She was fine when Jesus and Mariana hugged her. And she likes it when I give her hugs. But she looked so uncomfortable being hugged by Brandon that I wished I was big enough to throw him out the window.

He's gone now. Stef said Callie and I could have a little time to visit by ourselves before everyone goes home, but Callie looks exhausted. I pick up my markers and keep drawing on her cast to distract her. I wasn't sure what to draw, but she said she'd like anything I designed. I decided to make patterns; nothing too flowery, just something that will be fun to look at.

The nurse comes in and takes Callie's temperature and blood pressure. She gets a funny look on her face and starts hooking Callie back up to one of the machines. I'm not entirely sure what all the numbers are supposed to be, but I can see her temperature. It's 102 degrees.

I reach up my hand and put it on Callie's forehead. I can't believe I didn't notice. She's really hot; even her cheeks are turning red.

"Why is she sick?" I ask the nurse.

"I'm fine," Callie interrupts.

"Sometimes people get fevers when their body is trying to heal," the nurse explains. "Don't worry too much. I'm going to give you something to help bring your fever down, Callie."

Callie swallows the little white pills the nurse gives her, but the nurse still looks unsatisfied.

She reads the numbers on the machine and says, "Your blood pressure is a little high."

The nurse picks up some tubes and connects them to an IV in Callie's hand. She presses a red button and Callie relaxes. Some of the numbers on the machine start to go down. I'm guessing they're the ones that say what her blood pressure is.

"What is that?" I ask the nurse.

"Medicine for pain," she replies.

I turn to look at Callie, whose eyes are closed. Was she hurting that bad this whole time? She never said anything.

I put the caps back on the markers and lie down next to Callie until Stef comes back into the room. The hairs stand up on my arms. She looks nervous.

"What?" I whisper. She waves me over to the door and I slide off the bed, trying not to wake Callie.

"It's time to go home," she says.

"Why?"

Stef is trying not to let me see it, but I know she's worried about something.

"Some people are here to take Callie's statement."

"No!"

I put my hand over my mouth. I said it too loud, and Callie starts to stir. Stef takes my hand and pulls me into the hall where two police officers are waiting.

"It's okay, Jude. Lena will be here in a minute. She's going to sit with Callie, so Callie won't have to be alone. She has to give her statement. It's how we're going to keep Liam in jail permanently."

"She can't!" My eyes are tearing up, I'm so frustrated. "She's sick, and she's really, really scared. Please don't make her do this."

Stef puts a hand on my head. Her voice is very gentle.

"We've waited as long as we can, Jude. Sometimes we need to talk about things to make us less scared."

I don't know if that's true. I talk to Callie when I'm scared, but Callie never talks about it to anyone. Usually I'm the only person who can even tell if she's scared, because she's gotten so good at hiding it. But now she looks scared all the time, and I know I'm not the only one who can see it. I can't stand that they might make her more frightened than she already is.

There are footsteps clicking, and Lena comes around the corner. She looks almost happy, but when she sees the police officers, her whole face changes.

Stef steps away from me and pulls Lena into a tight hug. Lena tells me to go back into the room and get my stuff, but I know she just wants to talk to Stef without me. When I go back inside I look through the window in the door. Stef looks relieved about something. They hug again. I don't think I've ever seen people who hug and kiss as much as they do.

Mariana left her nail polish on the nightstand. I look down at my nails, which are bright blue, like the first time she painted them. Callie's wearing it too, which makes me really happy. She looks all beat up, but I thought the nail polish might help her feel pretty.

I grab my stuff and go into the waiting room where Jesus, Mariana, and Brandon are waiting for me and Stef. I don't want to go home. It's not fair to Callie. She has to stay here.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note: How do you feel about IAB's decision? What do you think Liam is going to do next? Any ideas? ;)**


	40. Chapter 40

**Author's Note: Remember, a lot of Callie's hospital experience is similar to mine, so this stuff does happen. _E_****_verything _****I write has a purpose. Please, please review. So much more to come!**

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**Callie: **

The last time I remember feeling like this I was 9 years old. I got a bad stomach flu and I threw up for three days straight. I felt so hot that I ended up just lying on the tile in the bathroom to cool down. My mom came in with a pillow and lay down in the bathroom with me. We played with one of Jude's I Spy books, like I was five instead of him. We didn't have money to go the doctor, but my mom gave me Tylenol and rubbed my back and tried to feed me soup. I was miserable, but she was mine for three whole days.

This is a thousand times worse. I'm hot, but I can't get out of bed to cool down. Everything hurts, but the morphine just makes me feel even hotter, so I don't want to take it. The cops are trying to ask me questions but I'm starting to feel confused. Was it two nights ago? Three? Am I sure Liam was wearing boots and not sneakers? Was I raped in the morning or at night?

I answer as best I can, but when they start asking me about the rape I feel like my mind breaks. Images of Liam combine with the pain and morphine and fever until I forget where I am. I begin to feel like I'm really back there; the shadows across the floor start flickering and my heart starts to race. Lena sees it, and tells the cops I need a break.

She hands me a cup of water, but I'm not thirsty. I dip my fingers in it and drag the water across my forehead. It helps for a second, but then the water heats up to match my skin.

"You're doing great," Lena tells me, "they're almost done."

The cops start asking questions again. Lena's holding my hand, and I know she's supporting me, but I feel so ashamed talking about the rape in front of her. Finally I ask her if she'll plug her ears.

She looks surprised, but she takes some Kleenex and shoves it into two little balls and places them in her ears. It's better. She can still hold my hand, and I can answer their questions.

After forever the cops put away their stuff and get up to leave. Lena tries to give me some Jell-O but I'm not hungry. She sets the Jell-O cup on the tray table, but a bite of it falls out of the spoon and lands on her suit jacket.

"Rats," she says, and she starts to take her jacket off. I start to apologize, but then I see her arm. Her left arm has a large bandage on it, with a long, thin strip of dried blood showing through. Whatever cut it was really sharp.

Like a knife.

Lena sees the expression on my face and looks down at her arm. She quickly shrugs the jacket back on.

"It's nothing, Callie. It was just an accident."

She's lying.

"Who?" I choke out.

She won't meet my gaze, and then I know.

"Liam?" It comes out as a gasp.

She doesn't say anything.

"When? What did he do?"

Lena looks heavenward, like she's praying or cursing.

"Callie, I'm fine. All of us are fine."

_All of us?_

"Oh my God did he hurt Jude too?" I know it sounds wrong, it sounds like I don't care that he hurt Lena, but I have to know. If Liam hurt my baby brother I am going to drag myself out of this hospital and kill him.

Lena is shaking her head, but I don't believe her; I need to see Jude.

"Bring him back," I tell her, "please bring him back here."

"Callie, he's fine," Lena begins to say, but I don't let her finish.

"Please, I need to see him!" My voice is desperate, and I don't know if she feels sorry for me or if she knows I will rip out my IVs and go find him, but either way she gets up and makes the phone call.

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**Jude:**

I don't understand why Stef brought me back here. The sky's starting to get dark, and visiting hours only last until eight o'clock. Stef said Callie wanted to spend more time with me. I hope those cops didn't upset her.

When we get to her room, Lena pulls Stef outside and starts talking to her. I don't listen, I just push through the door and go to Callie.

She looks awful. Her cheeks are bright red and she's breathing kind of fast. Her face brightens when she sees me though, and she reaches out her arm for me to come sit on the bed beside her.

"Did Liam hurt you?" She asks me. I stare at her, shocked.

"No! Brandon and Mariana blocked the door. Liam was outside. How did you even know about that?"

"I saw Lena's arm. I was afraid he hurt you too."

"No, I'm fine. Lena got stitches, and Jesus hurt his head, but nobody got hurt badly. Stef found Liam at the house and arrested him."

Callie nods, but her eyes are still examining every inch of me. I pull up my shirt sleeves and show her that I don't have any cuts on my arms like Lena does. She smiles a little, but there are tears in her eyes. I give her a hug and make her lie down. She's so feverish I can feel the heat radiating off of her. After a couple minutes she falls asleep.

Lena and Stef stay outside talking for ages. I bet they're hugging some more. I wish they'd hug me like that. But Callie hugs me, and she tickles me.

I lean over and give her a kiss on her forehead.

It's burning up.

Lena comes in and smiles at me, but I grab her hand and touch it to Callie's cheek, and she immediately looks concerned. She feels Callie's forehead. Callie doesn't wake up.

Lena reaches over to the side of the bed and presses a button. A nurse comes in, and takes Callie's temperature again. It's 104.5. Her fever went up more than two degrees in just two hours.

"I'm going to page the doctor," the nurse says.

A monitor starts making noise, and Lena and I look up at it. Two of the numbers are going down, and the other one, which I think is her heart rate, is going up.

All of a sudden the bed starts to rattle. I look down at Callie and I can't breathe. She's starting to shake, her arms stiff and close to her body. I've never seen anything like this.

"Oh my God. We need help in here!" Lena shouts. She puts her hands on Callie's arm and head, trying to keep her from banging against the bed.

I want to help, but I don't know what to do, so I just stand still and watch as Callie shakes like someone is zapping her with lightning.

"Jude, go get Stef and then wait in the hall!"

I run out the door and yell for Stef, but I run back in behind her. I can't leave my sister alone.

The doctor comes rushing in and some nurses help him turn Callie on her side until she stops shaking. He starts examining her; listening to her breathing with a stethoscope and taking her pulse with his fingers. He gives an order to the nurse, who runs out and gets a bag of liquid. She disconnects the bag of liquid already attached to Callie's arm, and puts the new one in.

Lena looks really worried, which makes me even more scared. Callie was so much better this morning. How could she be getting worse so fast?

"What's wrong with her? Why isn't she waking up?" I ask the doctor.

He does something I don't expect. He takes a needle, pulls off the plastic wrap, and sticks it in Callie's foot.

"HEY!" I lunge for him, to take the needle out, but Lena and Stef hold me back. I look over at Callie. She moved her foot when the needle went in, but she still isn't waking up. I shake Callie's shoulder, the one not in the sling, but she still doesn't move. I shake it harder, yelling her name, but hands pull me off of her and hold me back.

The doctor presses a button and lights start flashing. A whole bunch of people come in and take Callie away, and I can't do anything but watch her go.

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	41. Chapter 41

**Author's Note: Thank you so much for the reviews! Please keep them coming! You guys rock.**

** kylagirl Thanks so much. :) If I write a book I'll be sure to let you know!**

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**Stef:**

It's happening all over again. Monitors are going off like pinball machines and a whole team of doctors and nurses are surrounding Callie, injecting her with drugs, flashing lights in her eyes, putting cold packs on her body to cool her down. One doctor is examining her cervix and another is attaching wires to her head.

I watch them through the window, feeling about as helpless as I ever have in my life. A massive infection was brewing right under my eyes and I didn't see it. She seemed better this morning. She seemed happy. She didn't eat anything, but I thought she was tired from having so many people around. I cross my arms tightly against my chest, basically hugging myself to keep me upright as I watch my daughter struggling to stay alive.

Callie's doctor comes out, his expression serious.

"She's still unconscious. The infection raised her fever so quickly that her body couldn't handle it. She had what's called a febrile seizure."

"Will she be okay?" I can barely get the words out.

The doctor looks over his shoulder through the window where Callie is lying on the gurney.

"Febrile seizures are short. She should wake up in a few minutes. I'm more worried about the underlying infection. We're starting her on stronger antibiotics, and we're keeping her temperature down artificially for the time being. We're going to need to keep her in the ICU until her fever goes down."

I hug my arms more tightly to my chest. The last few days have been a nightmare from which I never seem to wake up.

"Can I be with her?"

"You can come sit with her. But you'll need to take her brother home."

Jude. I can't believe I forgot about him. Watching his sister have a seizure must have been petrifying for him. I have to get him home, but Lena is going to want to stay at the hospital with me in case Callie gets worse.

I know something's going on between Jude and Brandon. I saw the look on Jude's face when Brandon went to give Callie a hug. But I don't have any choice. I don't know where Mike is. Hopefully he's camped out at a 24/7 AA meeting.

I take out my phone and text Brandon to come pick up Jude.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

I'm sitting with Jude until Brandon comes. He keeps asking questions about what happened. I explain that she had a seizure because her fever was so high, and that the fever was caused by an infection. But when he asks me what the infection was from, I don't quite know what to say.

"Sometimes people get infections when they have surgery because bacteria can get in the incisions the doctors make."

He considers that for a minute.

"What's a cervix?"

Oh God. How did he know? Did he hear the doctor talking to Stef and me? He must have. But how can I tell him without him connecting it to her rape? I'm sure he probably suspects she was raped, but no one has confirmed it. How can I do that to him?

Thank God Brandon walks through the door right when I'm trying to figure out what to say.

Jude gets distracted, and his whole body tightens. That's the second time I've seen him react that way to Brandon. I need to get to the bottom of this. The only reason Jude would look this fierce is if it has something to do with Callie.

I think he knows why she ran away.

I make a mental note to talk to Stef about this. We need to sit down with our kids as soon as possible. I won't tolerate any more of these secrets in my house. Secrets get people killed.

I give the kids hugs and say goodbye, than go find Stef. We've barely gotten to talk since Callie's been in the hospital. I got a chance to tell her about the bail hearing, but we haven't had time to compare notes about the rest of this. I don't know how she's holding up, between the bogus work inquiry and spending so much time at the hospital.

Stef is sitting in a chair next to Callie's bed in the ICU. There aren't any rooms here, just curtain dividers. I signal to Stef and we leave the ICU so we can talk without Callie hearing.

"How is she?" I ask.

"Asleep. She woke up briefly but she was really confused. I'm not sure if it was the seizure or if she's hallucinating from the fever. Her temperature's down a degree though, which might stop her from having another seizure. Did Brandon pick up Jude?"

"Yes. Stef, something is going on with those two."

"I know," she says, "You should have seen the look on Jude's face when Brandon tried to hug her this afternoon. He looked like a little pit bull."

That doesn't surprise me at all. I ask her the question that's been weighing on my mind all day.

"Do you think they know something about why Callie ran away?"

"Honestly?" Stef says, "I'm not sure. You're the kid expert. Any theories?"

"Well," I say slowly, "it's possible that Jude is transferring his anger about Liam onto Brandon. Callie was hurt by one foster brother; maybe Jude is afraid Brandon will hurt her too?"

"But why isn't he acting that way towards Jesus? He's more physically imposing than Brandon is," Stef says bluntly.

I shake my head. I don't know.

"You don't think they were…involved, do you? And Jude found out?" Stef asks.

My stomach sinks.

"I hope that isn't true. I don't even know how we could manage that," I reply. If they had some kind of relationship, it would raise so many problems that I'm not sure we could fix it. And if someone else found out, it would be out of our hands. We can't let her be taken away, not now.

"Stef, is there any way to adopt Callie before she has her probation hearing?"

Stef shakes her head. "I don't think they'll let us now. CPS is questioning her placement in our house because she ran away. If they feel we're not the right environment, they certainly won't let us adopt her. And honestly, love, if there's something going on between her and Brandon, how could we adopt her anyway?"

The realization hits me like a ton of bricks.

"That's what Jude meant, isn't it?" I ask her. "When we were in the waiting room, he asked what would happen if they did something bad and we couldn't adopt them anymore."

Stef wraps my hand in hers and grips it tightly.

"Lena, this has to stay between us. Until we figure out what to do. If anyone finds out, Callie will be placed in a group home for sure."

The thought makes my stomach clench. I look Stef straight in the eyes and nod. We won't speak of this again. Not until after the probation hearing.

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	42. Chapter 42

**Jesus:**

Riding in the car with Brandon and Jude is like being crushed under a block of cement that says TENSION on it in big letters. Brandon dragged me along to make things better, but I don't know what to do. They're having their own thing, and it doesn't have anything to do with me.

All I know is that Callie is worse, and now she's in Intensive Care. It must be killing Jude. He fought us when we tried to take him out of the hospital. Brandon and I basically had to carry him to the car. But he's been staring out the window silently the whole way home, like it's a window to her hospital room or something.

When we get home I try to distract him with some videogames, but he just shakes his head and walks upstairs.

"What's the deal with you two?" I ask Brandon.

Brandon blushes.

"He caught me and Callie kissing," he says, not meeting my gaze.

"Oh man." I can't think of anything else to say, but that pretty much covers it. There's no making that right.

"Did Moms tell you what happened to Callie? She seemed okay before," I ask Brandon. He looks upset.

"Just that she has some kind of infection. She had a ridiculously bad fever and they had to put her in the ICU."

"Oh man," I say again.

Brandon looks like he's about to implode. Like the guilt or anger or worry is eating him from the inside out. I rack my brain, trying to think of something to say, but I don't know how to make him better. The best I've seen him look was when he was doing something—like cleaning Callie's room or making biscuits or buying clothes…

"Laundry!" I exclaim, making Brandon jump.

He looks at me, confused.

"Um. What?"

"Laundry! We need to wash those clothes so Callie can wear them."

Brandon shakes his head.

"Not right now, Jesus, okay? I think I just need to be alone."

"Nuh-uh," I go into Callie's room and get the bags of clothes, then grab Brandon's arm and march him into my moms' room where the washing machine is.

"If you don't want them to end up as doll's clothes, you'll have to help me," I tell him. "The last time I did laundry I turned Lena's pants pink."

Brandon smiles a little at the memory, then looks at the bags of clothes. I can tell he's worried about me massacring them.

"Fine," he sighs, and I slap him on the back.

"Good! Now are you supposed to put colors in hot water or cold water?"

Brandon looks at me like I'm a moron.

"So I have a low laundry IQ. Sue me," I tell him, tossing the white clothes in one pile and colors in another, bigger pile.

Brandon reaches over and very exaggeratedly turns the knob on the machine from "Hot" to "Cold" water. I toss the clothes in while he measures detergent and the machine starts filling with water.

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**Callie:**

Something wet is sliding over my legs. I start to kick, trying to get Liam off of me, and I feel my cast connect with his face. There's a burst of pain in my right ankle, but I ignore it, trying to open my eyes and focus so that I can aim the next kick at his head. The world is blurry, like things are moving in slow motion, but I see a woman at the end of my bed. She's holding a hand to her nose, which is bleeding. I look around, my chest heaving, but there's no Liam. I think I kicked her.

"Callie! It's okay!"

Lena comes over and puts a cool hand on my forehead. I didn't see her before. Stef is walking over to the other woman, who I think is a nurse. She hands her tissues for her nose.

I want to apologize to the woman, but I can't seem to talk. I reach up and curl my fingers around Lena's wrist, but I don't even know why I'm doing it. So she'll stay here, I guess. So she'll keep Liam at bay.

"No…more…wet," I try to tell her. My throat feels sore, and I'm having trouble thinking well.

"What?" Lena looks confused, but Stef seems to understand.

"The nurse was cleaning you off, Callie. You had an accident. It happens sometimes with seizures."

What? What seizure?

My head is sloshing and the world doesn't want to stay still. I feel like someone is cooking me in a furnace and cooling me in a freezer at the same time. All I can do is lie back on the pillow and try not to moan.

"Callie, we need to change the sheets, okay?

I don't protest as they move me around while they change the sheets. But when I feel a hand on my leg again I kick instinctively.

"Oh, Callie," Lena sighs. I blush. I'm not even in control of my own leg. I actually hurt someone.

"Sorry," I mumble, but Lena shakes her head.

"You have nothing to apologize for. We're sorry. We thought you were asleep or we would have given you some warning before the nurse started cleaning you off."

The words finally register. A nurse had to clean me off. I wet the bed. I'm sixteen, and I wet the bed.

My face burns even hotter until I feel like I'm about to burst into flames. I don't think I've ever been more embarrassed in my life.

When the sheets are finally changed, the nurse starts putting new cold packs on my forehead. I can practically hear them sizzle when they hit my skin. I close my eyes and revel in the cold. It feels amazing.

"I think there's a little friend here who would like to keep you company," Lena says.

Oh no. I don't want to see anyone. I just want to lie here with an ice pack on my head behind a curtain that separates me from the world.

I feel something soft hit my hand and I open my eyes. I think I'm seeing things. I close my eyes and open them again. It's still there.

I reach out and touch the stuffed rabbit. It feels the same, worn fuzz and exposed cloth. I wrap my hand around it and bring it closer. It smells the same too; slightly musty but with this sort of sweet smell I always associate with my mom.

It's hard to believe it's real. The last time I saw it, it was in a blue duffel bag that I dropped on the ground…

I look at Lena, who's smiling.

"How did you get it?" I ask her.

She looks surprised, then a little awkward.

"I think that needs to be our secret," she says.

I get it. Whatever she did, this rabbit is not supposed to be in my hands. I cradle it against my cheek. What I wouldn't give to have my mother with me now.

A tear slides down my cheek and falls onto the rabbit, just like always.

"Thank you," I whisper.

Lena reaches out a hand to smooth my hair, just like my mom used to do. I close my eyes and pretend that it's my mom comforting me on the bathroom floor as I fall asleep.

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**Author's Note: Please review! Midterms are boring, so it will really make my day.** :)


	43. Chapter 43

**Author's Note: Hey y'all, here's the plan: Life is insane to the tenth power, but I'm gonna try to keep updating as often as I can. If the Sox win the WS, I'm going to upload THREE chapters. If they don't, I will likely drop into a deep creativity-paralyzing depression. **

**Anyway, hope you like. There's a special guest coming up in the next one. Any ideas? :)**

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**Brandon:**

The clothes made it out okay. It took two loads to get it all done, and then we did a couple loads for everybody else too. Jesus was right. It's the only way to keep the gnawing ache in my heart away; the only way to stop feeling so useless. Jesus went to bed a while ago, though.

It's nearly midnight now. I'm sitting on my moms' bed, listening to my iPod while I fold dozens of shirts and pants, and roll endless socks. I'm almost done when the door opens and Jude sticks his head in. He's wearing pajamas and his hair is tousled, like he just woke up. I think he was looking for my moms, because he sees me and starts to back out. I pull my earbuds out of my ears and call out to him,

"Jude, wait!"

He stops trying to shut the door and stands still. He's not looking at me, but I'll take what I can get.

"Jude, I am so sorry. About everything. I know I shouldn't have kissed Callie. And I want you to know that she did stop me from kissing her a lot of times, because she didn't want to mess things up for you. We like each other a lot, but she loves you more than anything. And I know she wishes it had never happened."

"Do you?" Jude asks, looking up at me. My mouth works, but no words come out. That kiss was the best moment of my life. But given everything that happened after it—maybe because of it—and everything that _still_ might happen…

"I wish she had never gotten hurt," I tell Jude.

He glares at me, and I know I've said the wrong thing.

"Well, she did," he says, and he shuts the door hard behind him as he goes back to his room.

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**Mariana:**

I'm wide awake. The wind is waving the tree branches outside, and even though it's nighttime I can still see the shadows moving on the ceiling. When I close my eyes I hear the branches rustling and imagine that it's Liam climbing up the tree. I put my pillows over my ears, but it's no good. That just makes me feel more vulnerable—if someone comes in through the window, I'll never hear them coming.

I take my pillow under my arm and grab blanket off my bed, dragging it behind me like I did when I was six years old. It makes the same slithery sound on the hall floor as I step across to Jesus and Jude's room and open the door.

The boys are asleep, so I spread my blanket on the tiny patch of open floor by the desk and lie down, folding half the blanket over myself and tucking it in under me, like I'm in a sleeping bag. Jesus's deep breathing helps calm me down. Even Jude's shallower breaths make me feel better. I'm not alone in here. If anything were to happen, if anyone were to come through the window, we would fight as a team.

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**Lena:**

The beeps from the machines and the sounds of the other patients make it hard to sleep. Callie's having a bad night. The sky is light now, but I don't think she's had anything more than a half-sleep for the past eight hours.

I've checked on Callie before, when she first came to live with us. I rarely saw her move in her sleep, or talk. Now she does it so frequently that I almost don't believe she's asleep at all. And nurses keep coming in every twenty minutes to check on her, so they wake her up too.

Stef seems to be sleeping pretty well, though. She stirred a few times when a machine went off, but mostly she's curled up in an uncomfortable ball in the arm chair, dreaming away. But I know that if Callie made the slightest noise for help, Stef would be up in a second. We've both got Mama Radar that way.

At eight o'clock Callie's doctor comes in. I put a hand on Stef's knee and she wakes up immediately, looking around like she can't remember where she is. I point to the doctor and we get up, following him to somewhere more private.

I slip my hand into Stef's, and we face him together.

"The antibiotics are working," the doctor tells us.

I close my eyes, trying to absorb my relief.

"When will she be discharged?" Stef asks.

I open my eyes and stare at her. Callie's been in the ICU for the past twelve hours. She's in no shape to go home.

The doctor takes it in stride.

"Not for at least 48 hours. We need to keep an eye on her fever, make sure it doesn't come back. She's ready to be moved out of the ICU, though, so we'll do that today."

Stef nods, but she looks strained.

"What kind of help is she going to need when she comes home?" I ask the doctor. "Will she be able to climb stairs?"

"With help," he nods, "and you might want to think about getting her a chair to place in the shower. She's going to need help bathing for a while."

I look at Stef and she meets my worried gaze. Callie isn't going to like that.

"What about her internal damage?" Stef asks. I flinch. Thinking about that makes me feel sick.

"Her stitches are healing well, but she's going to be sore for the next few weeks. No sudden movements, no bicycle riding, no sexual activity of any kind. The casts will come off after eight weeks or so. And you really need to make sure she takes it easy with her ribs. No bending, no twisting, no playing dodge ball in gym class."

I 'm not sure whether he's cracking a joke or not. Stef and I thank him, and he leaves to check on another patient.

I turn to Stef.

"Why in the world are you asking about her discharge date?"

"She's been here for three days. We need to schedule her parole hearing. The court isn't detaining her, so the hearing has to be scheduled within three weeks of her discharge date."

I can't believe what I'm hearing.

"You want to schedule her hearing _now_?"

"You heard what Callie's PO said, Lena. Sympathy plays. I've seen it."

"But what if she gets sent back to Juvie? Or a group home? Shouldn't we let her heal for as long as possible?"

Stef hesitates, and I can see how much this is hurting her.

"A week's worth of healing won't save her if she ends up back in Juvie. But a week's worth of bruising might keep her from going back."

We stand still for a minute, holding hands, trying to battle against the hopelessness and fear threatening to overwhelm us. Finally I dig into my purse and pull out my cell phone.

"Who wants to call Bill and Simon?"

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam:**

The guards lead me down the hall and into a large room where prisoners are talking with visitors using little phones. I'm not sure why we have do it that way. Is it so the visitors are protected by a physical divider? Or is there a bug in the phone so the guards can record what we say?

I slide down onto the bench and pick up the phone. Across from me, through a thick clear screen, is my friend Tom.

"Hey," I say.

"Hey," he replies, looking uncomfortable. There are a few seconds of silence.

"What happened to your face?" he asks me.

"Got jumped. It's kind of an initiation," I explain.

"Like…a frat?"

He's such a moron. But he's a good friend.

"Yeah," I tell him. "So…did you get the letter I sent you? It was still sealed in the blue envelope when you got it?"

"Yep," he says. I relax. If the letter was still sealed, no one from the prison did a random inspection of it on its way out. And if they never inspected it, then they never saw the second envelope inside it.

"Cool. Thanks for doing that," I tell him. He shifts in his seat.

"It's no problem. But why didn't you just send them the letter yourself?"

He needs to shut up. If someone is listening to this conversation, they'll know I asked him to deliver a letter.

"Don't worry about it," I say lightly, "tell me about school. I miss the dorm."

Tom's face brightens and he starts telling me all about classes and football and some hot chick he scored with. It's boring as hell, but it keeps him occupied until our time is about to run out.

"So I might be sending you another letter in a while. Same arrangement. Okay?"

Tom looks surprised, but he nods in agreement.

Perfect. I've got my own postman.

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	44. Chapter 44

**Author's Note: Ahhhh midterms! Okay, that's all. I was going to wait 'til the Sox won to post again, but I'm sick of studying (at least for the next half hour), so here you go. Hope you like it! And thanks for your awesome reviews, I have the best followers! (And loving that some of you are Sox fans too...FEAR THE BEARD!)**

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**Stef:**

It's done. The court date has been scheduled for the Wednesday two weeks from today. My guilt and nerves are already trying to strangle me, but I know what I said to Lena is true. Callie would have been in just as bad shape in three weeks as she will be in two. I can't see any other options.

I just don't know how I'm going to tell her.

She's back in her room now. Her fever is down to 100 degrees. She's awake, and talking to Lena. I peek in through the window and watch as they smile about something. It's such a beautiful moment that I don't want to break it, so I stay in the hall and start to text Mike.

The doors to the waiting room open down the hall, and I see a head of wavy blonde hair coming out.

It's Wyatt.

He sees me and starts walking down the hall to meet me, but I hold up my hand to stop him before he walks by the window in Callie's door. I don't want him to see her before she's ready.

Instead, I walk over to meet him

"Where's Callie?" Wyatt asks immediately. He looks nervous.

"She's okay. She's with Lena right now."

"Can I see her?"

I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder, knowing he'll follow my gaze to her door.

"Let's go talk for a minute first."

I guide him back to the waiting room, but there are people in there, so we head outside and find a little bench under some trees in the courtyard. He is genuinely worried about Callie, but there's too much I need to know from him before I let him talk to her.

"Wyatt, I need you to tell me everything that happened when Callie ran away."

Wyatt looks down, his blond hair sliding halfway in front of his face.

"She said she needed a ride to Indiana. I told her she should go home, but she said if I didn't give her a ride she'd just take a bus. I was afraid she might hitchhike. So I found her walking down the street and picked her up. I thought that—I thought she'd be safer with me."

Guilt is oozing out of him so strongly that part of me wants to put an arm around him.

"Did she say why she ran away?"

Wyatt won't meet my gaze.

"Wyatt, this is really, really important. If we know why she ran, it will help us keep Callie in our house."

Wyatt looks like he's swallowed something unpleasant. He still doesn't say anything. I take another stab at it.

"Did Callie say anything about us? Is she unhappy with any of us?"

"No, she's very happy with you," he says. I think he's telling the truth, but it's hard to tell. I try one more time.

"You really don't have any idea why she ran?"

Wyatt looks straight at me now, and the directness of his gaze takes me aback.

"Mrs. Foster, I like you guys. And Callie likes you guys. So please just trust me that it's better for you not to know."

I'm speechless. Part of me wants to keep asking him. Another part thinks he might be right.

"Can I please see Callie?" He asks me.

I clear my throat.

"I have to ask her."

Wyatt nods and I pull out my phone to text Lena.

**Wyatt is here to see Callie. Does she want to? Should we let them?**

I wait a second before Lena's reply comes up on my screen.

**Yes and Yes.**

I'm not so sure, but I trust Lena.

I beckon to Wyatt to follow me, and we head inside. Just before I open the door to her room he stops me.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"I know," I tell him. And I mean it.

He follows me into the room.

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**Callie:**

Lena helps me wash my face off and tame my hair a little before Wyatt and Stef come in. It's humiliating to know how disheveled and dirty I must look. I don't want to dress up for him, but I wish I didn't feel quite so gross. I probably don't smell that great either.

A stray droplet of water slides down my forehead and behind my ear as Wyatt walks over to me. I can see the worry in his eyes.

"Aren't you supposed to be in Indiana?" I say lightly, but he just shrugs. I mentally bite my tongue. It sounds like I'm mad at him for coming.

"Did you bring me any corn, at least?" I tease, trying to resume our old banter.

He glances over at Lena and Stef who are standing in the corner, their arms folded like bouncers at a club.

"Could we have a second?" He asks them.

They look at each other, then at me. I feel nerves creeping over me but I try to smile at them to show I'm okay with it. They leave, but I can tell they don't like it. It's a bad angle for me so it's hard to tell, but I think they're peeking at us through the window in the door.

I turn my attention back to Wyatt, who's standing stiffly by the end of the bed. He's taking in all of the machines and casts and bandages. I still haven't seen myself in a mirror, but I'm pretty sure I don't look all that great.

"So…what are you doing here? Did you come straight back?" I ask him.

He sits down in the chair Stef and Lena usually sit in.

"I had to keep going to Indiana so I could drop off the stuff for my mom. She had a job interview and she needed her clothes. But I came back as fast as I could."

My stomach rocks on a sea of guilt. He's been driving for four days straight.

"Callie, I'm so sorry," he says.

I don't want to hear it. I don't want to talk about it.

"I'm fine, Wyatt," I start to tell him, but the look on his face says he knows I'm full of bullshit.

"Please. Don't try that crap with me. I know you, Callie."

It's true. He's always been frighteningly good at seeing inside my head.

I drop the fake smile.

"You did everything you could for me," I tell him quietly.

He shakes his head, his blond hair spinning like an Herbal Essences commercial.

"I should have driven you back home. I would have, if it hadn't been for my mom's stupid interview."

He sounds really angry, and I start to get scared. I've seen Wyatt angry before, at his old house. He totally lost it. I can't deal with that right now.

"I don't blame you," I tell him honestly. It's true. Nothing that happened was his fault.

"I blame me!" He bursts out, and I flinch. He sees it and immediately backs down.

"God, Callie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell."

The door opens and Lena sticks her head in.

"Everything all right in here?" She asks us.

My lips are trembling so I give her a thumbs up with my left hand. She goes back out and shuts the door.

I'm at a loss for words. I don't know how to comfort him.

"So…what job is your mom interviewing for?"

He looks surprised.

"Manager of a restaurant," he says, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. "She's been a hostess for years, but this is her first management gig. She's really excited about it."

"That's great!" I tell him enthusiastically.

"Yeah. She's going to miss it here, but I think she's happy to see my grandparents."

"What about you?" I ask him.

He shrugs. "They're alright. But if I had a choice, I'd be staying here."

The room feels awkward again. Does he mean because of me?

"California has much better food," he adds, and I smile, relieved.

"Just a bunch of Applebee's up there?"

He rolls his eyes.

"About four on every block."

"Wait until you get a load of the food here," I tell him, "I've been eating saltines for two days."

He raises an eyebrow.

"Well, I think we could do something about that."

He picks up the little menu the on the nightstand. One of the nurses left it a long time ago. You can order stuff from the cafeteria and they'll bring it to you. I haven't done it yet because I haven't been eating a lot of real food.

"What's your pleasure, madam?" Wyatt asks, holding the menu out to me. "A penne pasta feast? A golden grilled cheese? Some gourmet tuna fish sandwiches?"

I grin and take the menu from him. It has some surprisingly unhealthy items for a hospital.

"I'm kind of supposed to be on lighter fare…" I start to tell him, but then my eye lights on an item that I know I have to have.

"That!" I point to it. Wyatt laughs.

"For real?"

"You've got a problem with it?" I ask archly.

He gives a mini bow.

"Of course not, my lady." He picks up the phone on the nightstand and dials the extension listed on the menu. He winks at me as he places the order. I can't help it. I'm beaming. This silliness is the best feeling in the world.

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**Please review!**


	45. Chapter 45

**Author's Note: The Red Sox won game 4!...so here's a bonus scene! Excuse me while I go do a happy dance! emilyam...thanks lady! The beards are totally hilarious, and they all look like yetis, but damn do they work! obsessedatopia The Red Sox are the baseball team of Boston, MA. They are in the World Series (I think it's like soccer's World Cup?) and they are playing for the championship. I've been wearing Red Sox hats since before I could walk (for real, I have pictures), so I'm a tiny bit excited. Just a little. By which I mean I'm freaking the hell out and it's AWESOME. Plus I'm from Boston and we're all crazy about the Sox anyway, but Boston's had a hell of a year with the bombings so people are extra excited. It's sort of tied into our patriotism. Hard to explain, but if you walk down the street in Boston and there aren't 5 people near you wearing Red Sox gear at any given time, then you're probably not actually in Boston. ;-) Does that help? Glad you're rooting with us, I appreciate it!**

**Hope you all like this scene, it was extra fun to write! Game 5 is tomorrow, so stay tuned...if they win, I'll post the next (full) chapter early! Oh, and for the record they had this exact dish on the menu when I was at Children's Hospital, so my facts are accurate. ;-)**

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**Callie:**

"That is God's food," Wyatt says, wiping Oreo crumbs off his lips with the back of his hand. I couldn't agree more. I lick a little bit of chocolate pudding off the spoon I'm holding. I can only eat a tiny bit of the huge dish, so Wyatt is finishing most of it for me.

"Incoming!" he says, and tosses a red gummy worm at me. I catch it in my teeth but the end of it hits my chin, leaving a chocolate mark.

Wyatt laughs as I try to wipe it off and get a chocolate stain on my cast.

"You have terrible aim," I tell him. He grins.

"You're a terrible catcher."

"Sure, blame the cripple," I snark back.

He glances at my cast, and for a second I think I've ruined the fun, but instead he just picks up my arm and starts examining it.

"Who's the Picasso?" He asks me, taking in the doodled artwork.

"Jude."

He shakes his head.

"Kid's got no style."

"Hey!" I protest, but he's too busy hunting around for something in his pockets. After a second he pulls out a Sharpie.

I put my cast protectively under the blanket.

"Nuh-uh. You're not getting your hands on this. Jude would kill me."

Wyatt rolls his eyes.

"An artist would never mess with another artist's work. Even if that artist was a Crayola-wielding twelve-year-old."

He picks up the end of the blanket from the bottom of the bed, and my breath catches.

"Wyatt, what—?"

But he's only pulling the bottom of the blanket away from my right leg, and he tucks it back in just above my knee.

"You have a perfectly good canvas over here, and it would be a crime to waste it. May I?"

He holds up his black sharpie, and I relax. He wants to color my cast.

"Sure, but nothing too obscene, okay?"

He grins.

"I make no promises."

He opens the Sharpie and makes a few lines on my cast. I pick up another gummy worm with my fingers and eat it.

"You know," I say, looking at the remains of our pudding dish, "I used to eat this stuff on my birthday when I was a kid."

He looks up.

"Why didn't you just eat regular birthday cake?"

"This was cheaper, and I liked it better. My mom called it 'Devil's Dirt.'"

"Oooo Devil's Dirt," Wyatt says in a spooky voice, waggling his fingers at me.

"Shut up! She did. Dirt because of the crumbs, obviously, and I think maybe Devil because of the chocolate? I dunno, but I had it at a restaurant once when I was with a friend's family, and I talked about it forever, so my mom made it for me when I turned six. I had it every year until she died."

"How old were you when she died?" Wyatt asks. He picks up another gummy worm and eats it.

"Ten," I tell him, trying to push away the memories that come when I talk about her.

"My dad left when I was ten," he tells me. He looks back down at the cast, then pulls a different sharpie out of his pocket. This one's brown.

"I'm sorry."

He shrugs.

"So are you going to tell me what you're doing?" I ask, trying to make out a pattern in the lines he's drawn.

"No. In fact…" He opens Lena's laptop on the tray table so the screen blocks my view of my cast, then takes a towel and hangs it off the tray table so that I can't look underneath it and see what he's doing.

"No fair," I tell him. "I should get veto power."

"Tough."

He smiles at me, and it's so warm and sweet that it draws a smile out of me too. I use my left hand to fiddle around on Lena's computer and try to find some music. We don't have the same taste, but eventually I find an episode of The Office in her iTunes library, and soon I'm laughing out loud while Wyatt chuckles as he listens from the foot of my bed.

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	46. Chapter 46

**Author's Note: ...AND THE RED SOX WIN GAME FIVE! FEAR THE FREAKING BEARDS Y'ALL! I'd like to think it's because of the rousing pep talks I give my players through the television, but I strongly suspect it has more to do with David Ortiz being a BEAST. Special shout out to my Boston homies.**

**I have to go Tebow/do a happy dance/ spike a football but here's the chapter I promised. Jude and Brandon...well, you'll see. ;-)**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Jude:**

It's nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, and Stef and Lena are still at the hospital. I want to call them and ask about Callie, but I don't know whether I should. I sit in the living room, flipping through the channels on the TV, but I don't really have any shows I like to watch.

Someone knocks on the door and I look around. I'm the only person down here. Mariana and Jesus went out, and Brandon's in his room.

Slowly I tiptoe over to the window and peek out.

It's Bill. And there are people with him.

My heart starts pounding. I think about waiting until they go away, but I don't want to get in trouble if Stef and Lena find out I didn't let them in. He knocks again, and I open the door.

"Hi Jude," he says, looking over my shoulder, "where are Stef and Lena?"

"They're at the hospital," I tell him, surprised that he doesn't know that. The man and woman behind Bill look at each other.

"Both of them?" Bill asks, "Who's staying with you?"

"Brandon," I point upstairs.

"We've been trying to reach your moms, but they're not picking up their phones," Bill says. "We need to have a little talk."

My mouth goes dry.

"Can we wait until they come?"

Bill looks at the people behind him. The other man shakes his head.

"I'm afraid it has to be now. I left them a message; I'm sure they'll come home when they get it."

Bill guides me over to the couch while the man and woman disappear into the kitchen.

"Wait, what are they doing?" I ask Bill nervously.

"They're taking a look around."

"Why?"

"When a foster child runs away, the state investigates."

"That's not true," I point out. "We ran away before, and they didn't investigate."

Bill looks surprised.

"Callie ran away before?"

I wish I could bite my own tongue off.

"No, she didn't," I say quickly, "I did. She came to find me. But nobody investigated."

Bill looks uncertain. He takes out a file and starts flipping through it.

"When was this?" He asks.

I'm starting to panic.

"It wasn't—Callie didn't do anything. I did. Forget it."

Bill keeps flipping through his papers and I start to tremble. I can't breathe. I've just put a death sentence on Callie.

Bill looks up and his whole face changes.

"Woah, calm down Jude."

He puts the file down and pulls a bottle of water out of his bag. He twists the top off and hands it to me. I take a few sips, trying to calm myself down. I lie better when I'm not freaking out.

Bill takes a notebook out of his pocket.

"Jude, we need to talk about why Callie ran away."

I have to fight to stay calm. I keep drinking the water, gulping the whole bottle down so I can't say anything.

"I know you two are very close. And I bet you know why she did it."

I shake my head, but Bill doesn't look like he believes me.

"Callie loves it here," I tell him, "we both do. Stef and Lena are really nice to us. They're going to adopt us!"

Bill doesn't say anything, and I feel myself panicking again.

"Wait, they are still going to adopt us, right?" My voice begins to rise.

"They're still planning on it," he tells me, and I feel a little better, but I know that that's not the same thing as a "yes."

"You really like it here, huh?" Bill asks me.

"Yes!" I say loudly, "I love it here! Bill, please don't take us away. Callie won't ever run away again, she just…"

I bite my tongue, but it's too late.

"Yes? She just what?" Bill asks, looking at me intently.

"I don't know. She just…was having a bad day." I tell him. I have to stop talking before I make anything worse.

"Hmm." Bill sounds skeptical.

The man comes in from the kitchen writing something on a clipboard, and the woman starts to go upstairs.

"What are they doing?" I ask Bill.

He glances at them.

"I told you, they're just taking a look around. They're making sure it's a safe house."

That makes me mad.

"This is the safest house we've ever been in! Are you crazy? All the other families hurt us or yelled at us or stole all the money and didn't buy us any clothes. This is the best family we've ever had! Why are you trying to ruin it?"

Bill looks at me sympathetically, but that just makes me madder.

"I'm not trying to ruin it Jude. I'm trying to keep you and Callie safe."

"That's a LIE!" I yell at him, and his eyes widen. "You've NEVER kept us safe!"

I run up the stairs, ready to go to my room and slam the door, but I stop in my tracks. At the end of the hall I can see Brandon in his room, talking to the woman who came with Bill.

Brandon looks nervous. I have to stop them. I have to keep them from talking, or he might tell her about the kiss.

I close my eyes and drop to the floor.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Brandon:**

I'm trying desperately not to let the social worker see how much I'm sweating. She's asking me all kinds of questions about Callie and Jude. I try to answer honestly, until she asks me why Callie ran away. I start to give some bullshit lie, but I'm not sure she's believing a word of it.

Suddenly there's a thud in the hallway outside. We look around.

Jude is lying spread-eagle on the floor.

"Oh my gosh!" The woman starts to go over to him but I can see his hand twitch a little, and my spine runs cold. He's faking. And if the woman figures it out, she's going to know it has something to do with our discussion.

"I'll take care of it!" I run in front of her, "It happened a couple nights ago too. He faints when he gets stressed out. Call my moms, okay?"

I give the woman their numbers and she pulls out her cell phone and starts to dial as Bill comes running up the stairs.

"What happened?" He asks, starting to kneel down beside us.

"Can you get him some water?" I ask Bill, "He'll need it when he wakes up."

To my relief Bill gets back up and goes down to the kitchen. This is good. The farther away everyone is, the harder it will be for them to tell that Jude is faking.

The other man is standing at the bottom of the stairs, staring at us.

"I can't reach your moms," the woman says, coming over to me.

"You might have to call an ambulance," I tell her.

"Are you sure? I thought you said this had happened before."

"I know, that's what makes me think something is wrong," I improvise, trying to think of a way out of this.

"Better safe than sorry," Bill says, putting a glass of water down beside me.

I shift, trying to keep my shadow over Jude's face so no one will see that his eyelashes are flickering a little.

The woman makes the 911 call. I spend the minutes until they arrive ordering the three social workers to do anything I can think of. Fetch a pillow; fetch a blanket; fetch a flashlight. They go off on their scavenger hunt and luckily by the time they find everything the paramedics are here. I lean down before they come back and whisper to Jude,

"Start waking up soon. Act confused. Tell them you're dizzy and you don't feel well, and you don't remember what happened. Move your pinky finger if you understand."

I look down at his finger, which twitches just the tiniest bit. The caseworkers are leading the paramedics upstairs. One of them bends over Jude and pulls a little flashlight out of his pocket, but before he can shine it in Jude's eyes, Jude groans and moves. He opens his eyes.

"What happened?"

The paramedic sits back a little.

"Your brother here said you fainted. Can you tell me your name?"

Jude looks at me, probably wondering how confused he's supposed to be. I give him the tiniest nod.

"Jude," he says.

"Hi Jude, I'm Ray. We're going to take you to the hospital and get you checked out, okay?"

Jude starts to push himself up, but the paramedic and I tell him to stop at the same time. The paramedic looks at me.

"He gets dizzy when he gets up too fast," I lie.

The paramedic nods.

"That happens a lot." He looks down at Jude.

"My partner and I are going to help you up, okay? Does anything else hurt?"

"I think he hit his head when he fell," I interrupt, playing the biggest weapon in my arsenal. Head injuries always equal a trip to the hospital.

Jude immediately puts his hand on the back of his head.

"Yeah. It hurts here."

"Okay. You just stay still and we're going to move you, okay?"

Jude starts to nod, but I widen my eyes at him and he stops.

The paramedic consults with his partner, and the two of them slide a board under Jude and strap him onto it.

"Are you sure that's necessary?" Bill asks.

"It's just a precaution," the paramedic explains, "as the boy said, if Jude gets dizzy again he could faint and hit his head and cause more damage."

"I'll ride with him," Bill says, but I interrupt again.

"No, I want to. He's my responsibility until you can reach my moms."

I look at the paramedics.

"You're going to the closest hospital, right?"

They confirm it, and I have to stop myself from smiling. That's the hospital Callie and my moms are at. They'll know how to get rid of Bill.

I follow Jude and the paramedics into the ambulance. Bill says he'll meet us at the hospital, but the other caseworkers are throwing him worried looks. I'm not sure how or why they came into my house without my moms here, but from the looks on their faces I'm thinking they probably didn't have permission. I don't know whether or not that's even legal.

The paramedic climbs in the back with us and shuts the door. As we move forward, I give Jude a small smile. And to my surprise, he smiles back.

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	47. Chapter 47

**WE WON! WE WON! WE MOTHER****ING WON! There are fireworks and people high-fiving police officers in the street and college guys yelling outside and it's AWESOME. People are going to the finish line of the Marathon and mourning the victims and celebrating the win and all I can say is: This is our ####ing city! Boston Strong! Even if you're not a Sox fan, the passion in this city is amazing.**

**As promised, I have three chapters ready for you. I'll post the first one now and the next two tomorrow (It's 12:43 in the morning and I'm wiped out. Why again? Oh, BECAUSE WE WON.) **

**Thanks for putting up with my Sox obsession. Back to the mundane world of classes and homework, but tonight is a beautiful one in Boston. Love you all!**

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Lena**:

It took a while for Stef and I to trust Wyatt enough to leave him alone with Callie, but after twenty minutes of staring through the window, they seemed to be having such a good time that I managed to convince Stef to get something to eat with me. Someone from the cafeteria wheeled a tray past us as we were walking away from Callie's door, and to my surprise, they brought it into her room. I almost went back to remind Callie that the doctor said to stick to light food, but Stef shook her head at me, and I kept going. Whatever stomach ache she gets will be worth it if she can have a few minutes of fun.

And honestly, having an hour alone with Stef feels like a holiday for us too. I can't remember ever spending this much time apart. We discuss the children, and compare notes on how they all seem to be doing. I hold her hand while she tells me about her suspension, and she kisses me when I tell her about the speech I made at Callie's probation hearing. We usually make more of an effort to be discreet in public, but today neither of us cares. There's nothing like being in a hospital to remind you how precious these moments are.

After a while we just lean back and sit quietly, hand in hand. We don't say anything about the probation hearing or the CPS investigation. We just drink in each other's presence, and I swear I can feel it healing me like a balm.

After a while I realize that the light is starting to fade. We haven't spoken to our children all day. I reach for my phone, but I realize I left it in Callie's room.

"Did any of the kids call you?" I ask Stef.

She checks her phone.

"It's dead. I haven't had a chance to charge it today."

We throw away the remains of our food and head back to Callie's room. It's only been an hour and a half, but it makes me nervous that the kids might have been trying to reach us.

We slow down when we get to Callie's room. I can see through the window that Wyatt's sitting at the foot of Callie's bed, which strikes me as odd. I go inside, about to ask what he's doing, but as I get closer to the bed I can see his hands, and what he's doing takes my breath away.

I don't entirely understand the picture, but it's incredibly well done.

"You're really talented, Wyatt," I tell him. He looks up and smiles sheepishly.

"I like to draw."

"I can see that," I say, examining the picture.

Callie starts to lower the laptop screen in front of her, but Wyatt grabs it and lifts it back up.

"I'm running a top-secret operation here," he complains.

"Sorry," I apologize, "Just here to get my phone. Your secrets are safe with me."

I grab my purse, and fish out my phone.

I curse in my head. I have five missed calls. Three of them are from Bill, one is from a number I don't recognize, and one is from Brandon.

"Visiting hours end in a couple hours, guys, okay?"

They nod, but I can see the wistful look on Callie's face.

"Wyatt, do you need a place to stay tonight?"

He shakes his head, but Callie looks at me and mouths "yes."

"We've got a perfectly comfortable couch," I tell him, "and we'll be happy to give you a ride back to the hospital with us in the morning if Callie feels up to it."

Wyatt smiles a little.

"That would be nice," he says, "if you're sure it's not a problem."

"No problem at all." I excuse myself to the hallway where Stef is waiting for me.

"What are they doing in there?" She asks as I shut the door behind me.

"Being kids," I tell her.

She raises an eyebrow.

"In a good way, or in a 'get the fire-hose' way?"

I laugh.

"In a good way!"

I dial in my voicemail code and scroll through to Brandon's message. Bill can wait.

I start to listen to it and I feel like someone has dragged me into a déjà vu nightmare.

"Lena?" Stef asks, looking concerned.

I look through the window where Callie is laughing happily in her hospital bed.

"Jude is in the ER."

Stef's face registers so much fear that I can feel it increasing my own anxiety.

"Let's go," she says, and we hurry through the hallway to find our other injured child.

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**Mariana: **

Jesus, Lexi, and I are sitting in a café when my phone starts buzzing. I ignore it. This is the first afternoon in ages that we've gotten a minute to breathe.

People are looking at us, though, and some are whispering. I'm not sure why. I was just in the bathroom, and I know I don't have any crumbs on my face or anything.

"So, when are you coming back to school?" Lexi asks us.

"Lena wants us to go back tomorrow," Jesus tells her.

I whip my head around so fast I get a crick in my neck.

"She _does_? Why didn't she say anything to me?"

Jesus shrugs.

"She wanted to tell you when she got home tonight."

I glare at Jesus, furious. I can't believe nobody told me. I'm so not in the right head space for school.

"Well, it will be good to have you guys back," Lexi says brightly, trying to ease the tension between us.

"We've only been gone for a few days," I point out.

Lexi rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, but you don't even know how much Kelsey is driving me crazy. I think the average IQ in our class goes down ten points when you're not there."

I smother a laugh, and Jesus snorts.

"What's up with those guys?" he asks Lexi, nudging her leg with his knee. She looks over at the kids at the next table. I think I know some of them. They go to our school.

Lexi doesn't say anything.

"Lex? What's going on?" Jesus presses. She plays with her coffee stirrer.

"You have to tell us," I point out. "We're going back tomorrow. We need to know what's going on."

Slowly Lexi pulls out her phone. She fiddles with something on her email, then hands her phone to me.

It's a link to a news article that was published a couple of days ago.

I open it and gasp.

_Local Teen Abducted, Found Alive._

_A sixteen-year-old girl abducted from outside the Mulligan Bus Terminal Sunday night was found alive Monday evening in a small suburb outside of San Diego. Sources at the San Diego Police Department have revealed that she was found in the basement of a vacant house and was taken to the hospital with life-threatening injuries. She remains in critical condition. _

_While it is not the policy of this news organization to release the name of a rape victim, we can exclusively reveal that the attacker was a 21-year-old man named Liam Olmstead whose family had previously fostered the victim. Olmstead was previously accused of raping the victim, but the case never went to trial._

_According to police, Olmstead also went to the victim's own home, where he allegedly assaulted and attempted to rob her family. He is being charged with multiple felony counts, including armed robbery, rape, assault, and attempted murder. Liam Olmstead was denied bail, and remains in prison awaiting trial. _

There's more. Testimonials from residents of the neighborhood around the house where she was found; comments from "sources" in the hospital claiming that Callie is in a coma.

I hand the phone to Jesus, and Lexi rips some napkins out of the dispenser and hands them to me. I stare at them, wondering why she has given them to me, until she points to her cheeks. I reach up and touch mine, and realize they're wet. I'm crying.

I look around and see that half of the people in the shop are staring at me. The whispering has gotten even louder. I grab my stuff and walk out of the coffee shop as fast as I can. Once I'm sure no one inside can see me, I start to run.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	48. Chapter 48

**Jesus:**

Lexi and I catch up to Mariana nearly three blocks away from the coffee shop. She's sitting on a stone wall, crying her eyes out.

"They're just some stupid kids," I tell her, "Don't worry about what they say."

"It's not just about _us_," Mariana says, hiccupping. "Don't you g—get it? Everyone knows it's Callie. They're going to know she was raped. Can you imagine what that's going to be like for her?"

I feel like an idiot. I hadn't put that together. I thought Mariana was upset because the kids were going to be talking about _her_. She's right. Callie's going to be in a living nightmare when she comes back to school.

"Callie's tough," I tell Mariana, putting an arm around her shoulders. "Remember when she first came? Everyone was staring because she was all beat up? She got through that. And she has us now."

Lexi sits down next to us too.

"Yeah. We're three hot Latinas. We'll kick some ass if anyone tries to bother her," she says.

"I'm a boy," I point out, annoyed at being referred to as a Latina.

"Shut up. You're outnumbered," Lexi says.

Mariana starts to laugh but she's such a mess that it just turns into more crying.

I pull out my cell phone and dial Stef's number. She needs to know what's going on.

Her phone goes straight to voicemail. I frown, then dial Lena. Her phone rings for so long that I'm about to hang up when I hear her voice.

"Jesus?"

"Mama? We have a problem."

"Can it wait? We have kind of a situation here."

"No it—wait, what situation? Is Callie okay?"

Lena sighs.

"Callie's fine. Jude fainted."

"Again? Why?" I ask, puzzled. The only time Jude's ever fainted was when Liam came storming into our house.

"I don't know; we'll talk about it later. Everything's fine. Is Mariana with you?"

"Yes, that's what I need to talk to you about."

"Oh no. What happened?" She doesn't just sound worried, she sounds exhausted.

I make a judgment call.

"It's…nothing. Can I talk to Mom?"

"Are you sure?" Lena asks.

"Yes. We're fine. I just need to ask Mom a question."

I hear some static, then Stef's voice picks up.

"Jesus?"

"Mom? Can you go in the hallway or something for a minute?"

There's a moment of silence, and I motion to Lexi to give me her phone. She hands it over.

"Okay, what's this about?" Stef asks.

"Mom, did someone at the police station talk to the press about Callie?"

"What? No! Why are you asking?"

I read her the article off of Lexi's phone. Her breathing changes and I can practically hear the steam coming out of her ears.

"Who else knows about this?" She asks me.

I wince.

"Everyone at school, apparently. They were all staring at us today."

Stef lets out a couple of curse words so bad that I almost laugh out of pure surprise. She and Lena never swear like that in front of us.

"Take Mariana home, and stay there. Your mom and I need to be at the hospital for right now, but Brandon will be home soon, and one of us will take Jude home once he's discharged."

I wonder what Brandon was doing at the hospital with Jude, but I don't ask because that would sound suspicious. I guess he and Jude must have been home alone together.

Mariana has calmed down somewhat, and the three of us start to head back home. We're almost directly in front of the playground now, and it's getting so dark that families are starting to leave. One family with three kids passes right by us on the way to their car. Two boys and a girl, all about four to six years old. The littlest boy waves at me shyly.

What the hell is happening to my family?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Stef: **

I hang up on Jesus and count out five deep breaths. I go back into the ER to check on Jude, Brandon, and Lena. I don't have the faintest idea why Bill came in with them. He says he was going to the house to speak to us, but what are the odds that he just happened to be arriving the moment Jude fainted? Something about that is very wrong. As soon as Bill leaves, Brandon and I are going to need to have a talk. But right now, I have a more pressing problem.

Jude seems fine. The doctor said that he probably was just dehydrated. They attached an IV full of fluids, and Jude is watching the liquid drip down the tube and into his arm like it's the coolest thing he's ever seen.

He lifts up his hands to show me when I come in.

"Look! All my veins are bluer!"

His excitement makes me smile.

"Yeah, bud. That's what happens when they're full of water. How's your head?"

For some reason Jude looks at Brandon before he answers.

"It's…better," he says finally.

Lena glances at me, and I know she's seen their exchange too, but she just puts a soft hand on Jude's cheek.

"You rest up, okay sweetie? We'll be right back. Are you okay staying with Brandon for a minute?"

I'm expecting some sort of protest, but Jude agrees quickly.

Lena seems as surprised by that as I am, but she follows me into the hall.

"What did Jesus want?" She asks me.

I'm busy typing the name of the paper Jesus told me about into the web browser on my phone. I pull up the article and hand it to her.

For a minute I think she's actually going to pass out too, and I catch her arm. Unfortunately, it's the one with the cut, but the pain seems to help clear her head, and she steadies herself.

"What are we going to do?" She whispers, looking at the article with a horrified expression on her face. I just shake my head. There is no playbook for this. Her expression grows determined, and I can tell she's switching into school-vice-principle mode.

"I can call the paper and tell them to take out the part about him being her foster brother. That's identifying information; they shouldn't be allowed to print that," she says.

I tell her that that's a great idea, but I know it's too little, too late. I hold on to her phone while she goes off to Callie's room to find her computer so she can look up the number more easily. As soon as she's out of sight, I type out a text message. In a few seconds another message comes back:

**Hospital. Room 201.**

I wait until Lena comes back and I hand her back her phone. Then I set off to room 201.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Author's Note:** **Who do you think is in room 201? Any guesses?**


	49. Chapter 49

**Hey all, sorry I didn't put this up last night, I forgot about the whole Halloween thing. Hope you all had fun! Here's a long one. Please review! **

**Oh, and JR2011, my new frenemy, thanks for your review! :-) I'll never be able to hate the Yankees as much as I used to. Their response after the bombing was amazing. NY 3 B made me tear up, and when they sang Sweet Caroline I was a mess. I tip my hat to you...your team has some class. (Except for A Rod. Just saying.) :P **

**To the people who've been begging me for a Lena/Callie moment, I'm excited to share this chapter with you. Hope you like it. **

**xxxxxxxxxxxxxx**

**Stef:**

When I get to room 201, Mike is already standing outside the door. I look past him through the window. It's late, but the AA meeting is still going on. I'm not an alcoholic, but even I know that having a family member in the hospital makes you long for a glass of wine.

"I'm sorry to bother you," I say.

"Nah, it's no big deal. I've already been to two meetings today. What's going on?"

"That's good, Mike," I tell him. I cross my arms, trying to figure out how to ask what I'm about to ask.

"Listen, did you happen to talk to anyone about Callie?"

Mike looks puzzled.

"No. Just the boss. Why?"

"Someone wrote an article about her," I tell him quietly.

"Well, that makes sense. She's young and pretty. It's exactly the kind of story Nancy Grace would like," replies.

This is tricky. If I push too hard, I could throw Mike right off the wagon. But before I call my boss and start an office witch-hunt, I have to know.

"Mike, the article quoted a source at the San Diego Police Department."

Mike raises his eyebrows, and his tone is clearly hurt.

"You think I talked to a reporter about Callie? Stef, what kind of person do you think I am?"

I backtrack.

"No," I say carefully, "I know you wouldn't talk to a reporter. Not intentionally. I just wondered if, maybe, you might have said something in a meeting? Something about why you were at the hospital?"

Realization dawns on Mike's face, and my heart sinks. He did. He really did.

"Oh God, Stef, I'm so sorry. I never said her name. I never said either of their names."

I sigh.

"You didn't have to. They probably found the address in the police logs and looked up who owned the house."

Mike puts his head in his hands, and he looks so much like Brandon I can't help but feel sorry for him. It's hard to hate him when he's in such a vulnerable place.

"Officer?" I nudge him, and he looks up.

"Get your ass back in that meeting."

He looks close to tears.

"That might be a bad idea, Stef."

I shake my head.

"No way. Just don't talk about any cases. It sounds like there's a mole in there."

He's still hesitating, so I put my hand on his shoulder and pull him towards the door.

"You have a son. He needs a father. You need to dry out for good so he can have one."

Finally Mike looks me in the eyes. I can see something shift in his expression as my words register. He cares about Brandon more than anything in the world.

He goes back inside the meeting.

And I realize that I have to figure out how to deal with what he's done.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Callie: **

By the time the nurse comes to try to kick Wyatt out, I'm completely exhausted. He made me laugh so much that my ribs are starting to kill me. I tell the nurse that someone is going to come back and take him home, but after she leaves I realize that I haven't seen Stef and Lena for hours. They haven't left my side the whole time I've been here. I start to feel nervous.

Wyatt has finished drawing on my cast, but he still won't let me look at it. He just covers it with the blanket.

"There's a part of it that I'm going to need to finish tomorrow. So no peeking before the royal unveiling. Got it?"

I nod, amused.

"If you look, there's no more Devil's Dirt for you," he says.

I stick my tongue out at him and he cracks up. All of a sudden I start to shiver, and he looks concerned.

"You need a better blanket," he tells me, looking around for another one.

"I'm fine," I reply.

"Sure you are. I'll bring you a new one tomorrow. Pink fleece with rainbows?"

I start to crack up, but my ribs hurt so bad it turns into a squeak. I realize I haven't pressed the morphine button in ages. I look over at the machine, but I don't want to press the button while Wyatt is here. I don't want him to pity me.

He's too smart. He notices what I'm looking at, and hands the button to me. I swallow my pride and press it, and as the fire and relief travel through my body, I silently thank the scientists who invented morphine.

"So. When do you leave?" He asks me.

That throws me. I haven't really even thought about it. I've been so concerned with the pain and the doctors and trying to fight the nightmares and memories that I haven't given a thought to what comes next.

Wyatt must see the look on my face, because he quickly backpedals.

"Leave? Who said anything about leaving? Actually, I think I might rent a room here." He kicks his legs over the side of the armchair and hangs his head over the back of the arm so that his hair falls down towards the floor.

I try to smile, but I'm not laughing this time. What is going to happen when I get out of here? No one has come to bother me, not even Bill. Maybe they're going to let it slide? But someone must know. Someone must have figured out I broke my parole.

The more worried I get, the more aware I become of another, more pressing problem. Wyatt has been in my room for hours. I haven't wanted to get out of bed in front of him.

But I desperately have to go to the bathroom.

"Hey Wyatt?" I say, and his blond head immediately pops up.

"Could you go find Stef or Lena?"

"Is everything okay?" He asks, concerned.

"Yeah, it's fine. I just need to ask them a question."

He gets up, and as soon as he leaves I press the button on the bed to call the nurse. She comes in and helps me walk over to the bathroom.

When I finally manage to do what I have to and haul myself over to the sink, I notice that someone has left a metal basin on the shelf next to it. I pick the basin up and turn it over.

When I catch sight of myself the world rocks, and the basin drops to the floor with a crash.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jude: **

The doctors said I could go home, but I begged Stef and Lena to let me see Callie before I leave. I didn't get to see her all day. Bill finally left, so it's just us now. I can't believe the fainting worked. I know that without Brandon, it wouldn't have.

We're walking down the hallway towards Callie's room when we hear a faint crash come from behind her door. Stef puts a hand out to stop me, Brandon, and Wyatt and she and Lena break apart from us and dash into Callie's room, shutting the door behind them.

After a few seconds Stef emerges and starts trying to guide as away from the door. Wyatt and Brandon are throwing each other looks, but mostly they're staring at the door like I am. Both of them look like they want to go inside, but Stef ushers them backward; a true police barricade.

I can't take it anymore. I dart under Stef's arm and go into the room.

Callie isn't in her bed. There's no one here. Then I hear noise coming from the bathroom. The door is shut, but I can hear voices murmuring. Is Callie crying? Callie never cries.

I want to help, but I know this is no place for me. I back towards the door just as it opens and Stef yanks me out into the hall.

I've never seen her so mad at me, but she doesn't even yell.

"Jude, I know you want to help Callie. But she is safe here, and she needs privacy right now. Do you understand?"

I nod. I don't know what is going on in there, but Stef is right. I was never supposed to hear that.

"What's going on?" Brandon asks me, but I shake my head. He turns to Wyatt.

"What happened?"

"I have no idea," Wyatt tells him, "she was fine a few minutes ago. She was hurting, but she seemed better once she took some morphine."

Brandon glares at Wyatt suspiciously, and Stef and I turn to look at him too.

"Seriously, I didn't do anything!" He says anxiously. He looks so worried, I believe him. I don't think Wyatt would ever hurt Callie. But then, I would have said that about Liam and Brandon once too.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

My whole body floods with relief when I see Callie standing upright in the bathroom. When I heard the crash I thought she was having another seizure. Then she turns and sees me standing behind her, and I notice how pale she is.

"Are you dizzy?" I ask her, going up to her and tucking an arm around her waist.

Callie shakes her head, but even through the sweatpants she's wearing I can tell that her legs are shaking. I help the nurse bring her back to the bed, and Callie seems even more wobbly than usual. I think she's embarrassed by me making a fuss over her, but she doesn't push me away. And no matter how many times she tells me she's fine, I can see how upset she is.

Once Callie is in bed the nurse starts talking at me, explaining that the noise I heard was Callie dropping an emesis basin. I pick it up from the bathroom floor, and I see my slightly wavy reflection in the metal.

Oh no.

I look at Callie, who's trying to look like nothing was ever wrong. She's fooling no one. I rest my hand over hers and start talking to her. She won't quite look me in the eye.

"I know it looks bad, Callie. But you're going to heal. You're already healing. In a couple of months your reflection will be back to normal."

Callie stares up at the ceiling, her eyes shiny. I can see how hard she's trying not to cry. With her bruised face and shiny eyes, she looks so much like the lost girl I met outside the detention facility.

Impulsively I reach up and bundle my hair up on top of my head. I turn around and kneel down so that the back of my neck is at Callie's eye level.

"Do you see that?" I ask her, pointing to the scar on the back of my neck.

"What's it from?" I hear her ask.

I let my hair fall back down and turn around, then catch the nurse's eye.

"Could you give us a moment?" I ask her

She quickly agrees and goes out into the hall.

I turn back to Callie and sit down beside her.

"Some boys at my high school did it. I came out in my senior year. And this was back when nobody was coming out, definitely not in high school."

Callie's watching me, her eyes serious.

"They jumped me when I was walking home from field hockey. And by the time they were done, I looked a lot like you do now."

Callie's eyes look shiny again.

"I'm sorry," she says.

I reach over and put my hand on top of hers.

"Don't be sorry for me, Callie. I have a great life. I have a beautiful family. Those people can hurt us, but we heal. I don't hate my scar, because it's part of what made me who I am. It reminds me of how far I've come. You are a strong, beautiful girl. And when you have your own family, and your own amazing life, you are going to look at your scars and remember how you survived and built a life, because you refused to let anyone take it from you. Just like I did."

Tears spill out of Callie's eyes, and for the first time since I've known her she reaches out to me. I hold her close, rocking her gently as she rests her head on my shoulder.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	50. Chapter 50

**Author's Note: I have a hell of a cold, so I'm going to curl up, edit the next bit of my story, read your reviews, drink chicken soup, and possibly watch the "Soft Kitty" episode of the Big Bang Theory (extra points if you get the reference.) Enjoy, and please continue to review!**

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**Brandon:**

It's another bad night for me. I toss and turn so much that I finally have to turn on the light just so I can untangle my sheets. I can't make my brain turn off. All I can think about is Callie, upset and maybe even in trouble, on the other side of that hospital door while I was stuck in the hall with Wyatt and Jude.

Jude doesn't seem to hate me as much anymore, but now Wyatt's sleeping on the couch downstairs. I keep waiting for him to bust me, but he hasn't yet. I wonder if maybe Callie didn't tell him about us. But he looks at me so knowingly, it's hard to believe she didn't.

I put my headphones on and listen to some music to drown my thoughts. By the time everyone has woken up I've probably slept a grand total of half an hour. And today's the day I have to go back to school.

I get up, still in my pajamas, and go downstairs to make us some breakfast. Since Mom's asleep and Lena is at the hospital, I'm in charge.

I glance into the living room. Wyatt's still on the sofa, his curly hair spread out all over the pillow.

I bet if I sold his hair for a wig I would make a fortune.

I try to be as quiet as I can while I set out the bowls and cereal, but after a few minutes Wyatt comes in. I'm pleased to see that his hair is a mess.

"Anything I can do?" He asks.

I shake my head, but Wyatt keeps standing in the doorway.

"What?" I finally snap at him.

He's about to say something when Jude comes into the room.

"Morning," I say to Jude.

Jude looks at me warily, but he greets me back.

"Morning."

He pours himself some cereal, but I can see him looking back and forth between me and Wyatt. I pour myself some cereal too, and after a minute Wyatt takes the box and helps himself.

Five awkward minutes tick by. No one says anything.

Finally Jesus comes into the room, his hair standing on end. He dumps half of what's left in the cereal box into his bowl.

"Take your pill," I remind him automatically.

He glares at me.

"Who do you think you are? Moms?"

I flush. I was just trying to help.

He grabs a pill and shoves it in his mouth, swallowing it without any water or anything.

"Happy?" He asks.

I shrug. He's clearly in a bad mood this morning.

I can see Jude eyeing Jesus cautiously. He's quick to know when someone's on edge.

Once I finish my cereal I head upstairs to wake up Mariana. If she doesn't get a move on, we're going to be late.

I knock softly on her door, trying not to make enough noise to wake up my mom.

"Mariana?" I call quietly.

There's no sound. I open the door a little.

"Mariana?" I try again.

Still nothing. I roll my eyes and go inside, knowing she's just going to yell at me for coming in.

To my surprise, she's awake. She's standing in front of her dresser, staring into the open drawers.

"Um, hello?" I say, trying to get her attention.

She doesn't stay anything. She just looks at the clothes.

"Mariana? We have to go. Why aren't you getting dressed?"

Finally she looks up at me. Her eyes are pink.

"Woah, what's wrong?" I shut the door behind me so no one can listen in.

"They're all going to be staring at us," she says.

"Who is?"

"Jesus didn't tell you?" she asks, astonished.

"Tell me what?"

A strange expression crosses her face.

"Forget it," she says, "I was just worried about nothing."

"No, come on," I say, grabbing her arm as she turns away, "you have to tell me. What's going on?"

Mariana pulls her arm out of my grasp.

"Get out so I can get dressed," she orders. "I thought you were worried about being late."

I don't like it, but I leave. We really are going to be late if she doesn't get a move on. I don't see why anyone will be staring at us, though. Is she worried people are going to be weird about our moms getting married? That seems highly unlikely. Most people already know they're gay. And this is California, not the Deep South.

Mariana looks so upset, though, that I know it must be serious. I guess people could have figured out that something was going on with us since our whole family has been absent for a couple days. But they don't know why. How could they?

It takes another half hour before we're all ready. I sneak peeks at Mariana all the way to school. She's staring resolutely out the car window, not looking at me. She's not crying, but she looks about as worried as I've ever seen her.

Jesus notices too, but he doesn't try to get her to talk. I bet he already knows what's going on. Jude doesn't seem to know, though. He seems antsy, but I think it's just because he doesn't want to be at school. I make a mental note to keep an eye on him today. Lena texted me that she would be coming to school in an hour or two to check on us and get some work done, but I don't want Jude tunneling underneath the walls before she gets here. We've had enough runaways.

We park the car and head to the doors just a few minutes before the bell rings. People are still standing outside, talking and laughing and drinking contraband energy drinks. The moment they see us, they stop talking. Other people look around to see why the noise has dropped, and they stop talking too. Pretty soon we're walking through a sea of silent people.

Mariana's right. Everyone is staring.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Jesus:**

This is hell.

I volunteered to drop Jude off at his class because I have first period free. Mariana and Brandon have to go to their own classes. I wish I could go with Mariana. People are going to be all over her. But no one is going to let me sit in a class I don't belong in.

I spend the entire walk to Jude's classroom arguing with myself. Part of me wants to warn Jude what's going on. But it might just be the high school kids who know about the article. If there's even the slightest chance he won't find out, how could I put him through that?

As we get closer to the classroom, though, I get my answer. All manner of ankle-biters are staring at us. Even kids who look like they're in fifth grade.

I have to tell him. I can't let him hear it from them. But I doubt it will be much better coming from me.

"Jude, let's go in here and talk for a second," I say, pulling him into the boy's bathroom.

There are a couple kids inside, and I tell them to beat it. I'm about two feet taller than they are, so they leave pretty fast.

"What's going on? Why is everyone staring at us?" Jude asks.

I clear my throat, wishing desperately that someone else was here to have this conversation. I bet mom meant to, but she was so tired last night that it seemed better to let her sleep in, so we didn't wake her up like she asked us to.

"Jude, this is going to suck, but I need you not to run away, okay?"

His eyes widen.

"What is it? This isn't about the nail polish, is it? It wasn't this big a deal before."

I look down at my hands and realize my own nails are still blue from when I let Mariana paint them. I resist the urge to make a face. I'm going to have a lot of explaining to do to my friends.

"No, it's not the nail polish," I tell Jude. "Some of the kids found out that Callie got hurt."

Jude looks scared.

"What—what do they know?"

_I wish I were anywhere but here having this conversation. _

"I think they know a lot. They might ask questions. Don't tell them anything, no matter what they say. Got it?"

He nods, but I think he's still confused.

"Who told them?" He asks.

I can't even look at him.

"Somebody wrote an article about it. They didn't use her name, but people figured out it was Callie."

"It's in the _paper_?" Jude all but shrieks. "How many people saw it?"

_Seriously. Anywhere but here. _

"Probably most people."

Jude buries his face in his hands. I wish he would hit me or something instead. It might make him feel better. It might even make _me_ feel better. I try the only thing I can think of.

"Listen," I tell him slowly, "I know I'm not the right person to tell you anything about Callie. You know her way better than I do. But if she were here, I bet she'd tell you to walk right in there and make sure that every one of those assholes knew that you didn't care what they thought. Am I right?"

Jude looks up, and I'm relieved that his eyes are dry. Crying will make things worse for him today.

"Yeah," he says quietly.

The bell rings and I nod firmly at him.

"Go in there and show them how it's done," I order. He starts to leave, but I hear Lena's voice in my head.

"If you have any problems…tell the teacher," I add.

He looks back at me with just the tiniest bit of a smile.

"You sound like your mom," he says.

I smile sheepishly.

"Thanks. She's going to be really proud of you," I tell him.

We leave the bathroom and I watch as he goes into his classroom. Through the door I see kids turn and whisper to each other as he walks in, and I have to resist the urge to run in there and kick the snot out of every single one of them, but then I'm filled with admiration as Jude walks through the room like a boss and takes his seat, his head high, like everyone else is beneath his notice.

"That a boy," I whisper, and as I walk back to my classes, I feel myself holding my head a little higher too.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx


	51. Chapter 51

**Author's Note: Last midterm is done, so hopefully I'll have more time to work on the story this weekend. Thank you all for your support...we are indeed past the 50 chapter milestone, and there are now over 150 people following the story! Thank you all. I hope you are continuing to enjoy it. I'm enjoying sharing it with you. :)  
**

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**Callie:**

"Good morning, Callie! How are you doing today?"

The voice is so cheerful I wince and put a hand to my head. I open my eyes. It's the doctor.

"Mmm," I say noncommittally. The doctor flips through some pages in my chart and makes a note with his pen. My eyes are still blurry from sleep, and I'm grouchy enough to beat the Sesame Street garbage-dweller in a bad-mood contest.

"Well, good news! Your temperature is basically back to normal, which means your infection is clearing up. And the nurse tells me you're walking better, and using the bathroom regularly."

I wince. My bodily functions are definitely on my list of the top 3 things I am sick of discussing with people.

"…So it looks like if all goes well, you should be out of here tomorrow," the doctor finishes.

I freeze. What did he just say?

"Tomorrow?" I croak, unable to believe that I've heard him correctly.

"That's right!" He confirms, "You have made remarkable progress. We'll take it slow and see how things go today, but you are doing very well."

He flips through some more pages while I try to remember how to breathe.

Lena smiles at me. I want to ask her what's going to happen, whether she's heard from Bill or my parole officer, but before I can, she tells me that she has to leave for a few hours so that she can go to the school. I don't think she wants to leave me, but I'm glad she's going. I want her to be there to check on Jude; I doubt he's happy to go back. So I swallow the questions and tell her I'll be fine, but inside I'm screaming. What is going to happen to me?

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Mariana:**

I want to curl up in a ball and die. Lexi keeps sending me notes:

**_"Are you okay?" _**

**_"Don't listen to them." _**

**_"Do you want me to take you to the nurse?"_**

I can't respond. I'm too busy trying to pretend that I'm somewhere else.

I try to think of the happiest place I've ever been. I have lots of happy memories, but I need a happy place, somewhere I can explore in my mind.

I close my eyes, and immediately I see it. A year after we came to live with Stef and Lena they took all three of us to Disneyland. Jesus and I had never seen anything like it. It was huge and colorful and there were kids everywhere. Moms brought snacks in because everything was so expensive, and we ate them on benches near a merry-go-round. We went on all the rides, except the ones that Brandon or I were too scared to go on. We were walking near a whole row of stores when I saw something and got distracted. I didn't even realize that they had kept walking without me.

I was too busy staring at the princess dress.

It was just the right size for me, and it was the most beautiful yellow with silver sparkly trim. There was a wand and a tiara and a doll that matched. I walked closer to the window, like it was actually pulling me in.

_Mariana, come try me on!_ It called. _You can be a princess too!_

I was standing there, touching the glass in front of it, when I saw Stef's face reflected above mine. I turned around and realized that it was just me and her. I hadn't noticed them leaving.

I wanted to turn and run, I was so sure she was going to yell at me. Instead, she just looked at me for a moment. Then she took my hand and guided me inside the store.

It was like a princess wonderland. Everything was for princesses, or had princesses on it. I was trying to work up the nerve to steal a pencil because I thought I might be able to do it without anyone noticing, but Stef placed a hand on my shoulder. Initially I was scared that she knew what I'd been thinking, but then I turned around and I couldn't believe my eyes.

She was holding the princess dress. She was giving it to me.

She helped me try it on in the changing room, and while she paid at the register I ran my fingers over my stomach, feeling the soft material shift under my fingers.

Even as an eight year old I knew it was costing her a lot of money, but she never said a word. I had never wanted anything more. And Stef bought it just for me.

Stef took me to go find Lena, who stopped looking worried when she saw me and started looking happy. She dug a comb and a hair tie out of her purse and put my hair up into a big bun. She took out some lipstick and made a little heart on my cheek like some of the other girls had. And we all went to meet the princesses, all five of us. I have one of the pictures in a frame. Stef, Lena, and I are curtsying, even though they're in pants, and the princesses are curtsying around us. I love that picture, because every time I look at it I can see how happy all of us were.

They didn't leave the boys out. They bought Brandon a curly straw with Mickey Mouse on it, and Jesus got a hat with Goofy ears that he wanted almost as badly as I wanted my dress. But that was the first day I remember feeling like they were really my moms. And more importantly, like they really wanted me as their daughter.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Stef:**

As soon as I start to wake up, I realize I've slept too long. The light is too bright and the bed is so warm I must have been lying here for ages. I look over at my alarm clock and nearly jump out of my skin. It's almost eleven. I've been asleep for almost twelve hours. I pick up the clock and check to see why the alarm didn't go off. It's so painfully stupid that I curse. I set it to go off at 6 PM instead of 6 AM. I can't believe the kids didn't wake me up. I specifically told Brandon I needed to talk to him and Jude before I went to school. What if they walked into the Lion's Den without knowing about the news story?

I pick up the phone and text Lena.

**Kids okay at school? Not sure if Jude knows about article.**

After a minute she texts back.

**You didn't tell him?**

I groan. I am the worst mother in the world.

**I slept through the alarm.**

I doubt she'll judge me too harshly. We've both been spending so much time sleeping in hospital armchairs that we're exhausted.

_Oh no_. If Lena's at the school, no one is with Callie.

I jump out of bed and I'm in my clothes before Lena texts back.

**Will check on kids. You okay?**

I grab the car keys and almost fall down the stairs trying to text and put on my shoe at the same time.

**Fine. Going to hospital.**

I set the phone down to tie my shoes and it clatters against the stairs when it buzzes again.

**Did you ever find out why Bill was at our house? And take Wyatt with you, we promised him a ride.**

Wyatt. I forgot about him. I go into the living room, but the couch is empty. Where could he be? We gave him a ride home last night, so he doesn't have his car with him. I know he drove back from Arizona in it though. He probably left it at his old house, so he didn't have to pay a parking fee at the hospital.

**Wyatt AWOL. Will find him. Not sure about Bill. No time to talk to kids.**

I do one final sweep through the house to make sure Wyatt isn't here. I'm not sure how he's getting there, but I'd bet my bullet fragments that he's already at the hospital.

**Let's talk to them as soon as they're done with school. Going to check on them now. Give Callie my love. Love you. **

I send her one final text on my way out the door before I have to face the day.

**Love you too. **

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Liam:**

I'm starting to get impatient.

There's been no response. None. The lawyer tells me that no one has spoken to him about dropping the rape charges. I don't know what is going on; they should have gotten the letter yesterday. I'll give them one more day before I draw the line.

I get up from my bunk and start doing some pushups on the floor. If I don't keep moving, my body is going to turn into mush. The food is tasteless, fattening garbage, and I'm stuck in a cell the size of my bathroom at home. The lawyer tells me this is a good thing; people charged with my crimes usually end up getting raped themselves.

I'd like to see anyone try. I'd cut their balls off.

Still, that one guy was pretty big, and there are probably others like him. So I do 50 pushups and switch over to sit ups, then start running in place. In the corner of the ceiling, a camera blinks. Someone is always watching me. It's hard to get used to that.

You do get a few things in here. Paper, soft markers, books. And memories. I spend hours lying on my bunk, reliving my life. My favorite memories are of Callie, but there are others too. Girls before her. Girls after her. All young and pretty and starved for attention.

My parents are coming to visit tomorrow. I'm not sure what they're going to have to say to me. I certainly won't have much to say to them.

I don't care. Even if I get locked up in here for the rest of my life, I still won't have any regrets. But those rape charges have got to go if I don't want to be tortured when I get put back in general population.

One more day to respond.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Please review! What did you think of Mariana's memories? And who do you think Liam sent the letter to? :)**


	52. Chapter 52

**Author's note: WE JUST HIT 400 REVIEWS! And you know what that means? BONUS CHAPTER! Seriously, thank you all so much! I'm a lucky writer to have such supportive readers!**

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**Callie**:

It's the worst possible time to be alone. My thoughts are racing and visions of parole hearings and memories of jail swirl through my mind, threatening to smother me in panic. I keep picking threads out of my white hospital blanket, wishing I could get up and run off my nervous energy. I try to watch TV, but the moving colors make my head hurt. And the book is useless; even if the anxiety wasn't making it impossible to focus, my concussion would. I don't want to admit it to anyone, but sometimes I find myself getting dizzy or forgetting the names of the doctors and nurses.

I reach over and try to grab the backpack off the nightstand. The weight of it makes my ribs sear and pain shoot up my arm, but I haul it over and rest it on the bed. Maybe there's something else in here that will keep my mind off things.

I dig through the clothes and DVDs, looking for anything I might have missed. All of a sudden I feel something thin and smooth, and I pull it out.

It's the card Jude gave me.

I flip it open. I was so teary when he gave it to me that I didn't have a chance to read what everyone wrote. Now I can see it all.

**Get better soon. Call me if you need me. –Jesus**

**We miss you so much! The boys even tried to cook for you. You can guess how that went. -Mariana. **

**Your guitar is waiting for you. I miss you. –Brandon**

**I love you Callie. Come home soon, okay? –Jude**

And the longest message, right in the middle of the card:

**To our brave daughter, **

**We love you so much. **

**We'll be right by your side, now and always. **

**Stef and Lena. **

A tear drops onto the card. This is what I could have had.

"Callie?"

I nearly jump out of my skin, but it's just Wyatt. He's standing in the doorway with a concerned look on his face, holding a bag in his hand.

I hastily shove the card behind my back. He raises an eyebrow, but he doesn't ask to see it. Instead he comes over and sits down in the chair beside me.

"You okay?" He asks me, his eyes searching my face.

I nod, trying to swallow the lump in my throat. He gives me that look, like he's trying to X-Ray my emotions.

"You want me to find Stef and Lena?"

"They're not here," I tell him, trying to sound unconcerned. It makes him look more worried, but after an awkward pause he just says,

"Well. Good thing I'm here then. Are you up for company?"

I smile, relieved, because I want company more than anything right now.

He smiles too.

"Good. Because I had to actually go to a mall to get this, and all my hard work would have been wasted."

"You went to a _mall_?" I ask incredulously, "I can_not_ picture _you_ at a mall."

"Oh, not only did I go to a mall, I actually had to be seen buying this in public," he says, handing me the bag.

I look inside and burst out laughing.

It's a blanket. Pink fleece with rainbows.

Wyatt pulls it out and snaps it so that it fans out and settles down onto my lap. I smooth it down. It's amazingly soft.

"Wyatt, you didn't have to—" I start, but he won't let me finish.

"And miss seeing you covered in pink and rainbows? When was I going to get this chance again? Actually…" he reaches into his pocket, and before I can stop him, he whips out his phone and takes a picture.

"For posterity," he tells me, putting it back. He starts rummaging in the bag and I look anxiously at the phone sticking out of his pocket. I don't want any pictures of me like this. But he looks so happy that I don't want to ruin it. I'll steal his phone and delete it later.

After a second Wyatt whips out a whole pack of sharpies, including some huge brown and black ones that are much bigger than the ones he had yesterday. He sets up the tray table, the laptop, and the towel like he did before so that I can't see what he's doing. Then he pulls the corner of the blanket up to my knee and sets to work on my cast.

I put on another TV episode, but I close my eyes so I don't have to watch the spinning colors. I don't know if it's the stress or lack of sleep, but my head is killing me. After a while I feel myself starting to drift off, the laughing track playing in my ears…

I'm walking through the hallways of the high school, people pointing and laughing as I go by. I don't understand why until I look down. I'm in a hospital gown, the pink and rainbow blanket draped around my shoulders. People keep pointing and laughing and I try to run, to get out of there, but something on my leg is weighing me down…

I kick to get it off and someone says "Hey!"

I open my eyes and shriek when I see someone bending over me.

He backs off, looking scared.

"Hey, Callie, it's just me. It's Wyatt."

My face burns.

"Sorry," I say quietly, staring down at one of the rainbows on my lap.

"It's cool," he says, looking worried. "I'll be right back."

He pulls the blanket over my leg and puts the caps on his markers.

"Wyatt?" I call as he heads out the door. He pauses.

"Don't call Stef or Lena, okay?"

He looks torn.

"You shouldn't be alone right now."

"I'm not alone," I point out, "you're here."

Wyatt shakes his head.

"I'm not good at this stuff, Callie. You need your moms."

To my mortal embarrassment, I feel tears collecting in the corners of my eyes.

"They're not my moms," I remind him.

He comes back over and sits down in the chair next to the bed. He looks at me so intensely I want to look away.

"I'm sorry," he says.

I'm confused. Why is _he_ apologizing?

"What are you sorry for?" I ask him.

"I shouldn't have told you to go for it. With Brandon."

I glance at the door to make sure no one is listening.

"It's not your fault," I tell him, "it was mine. I made a stupid mistake. And now I could get kicked out."

Wyatt shakes his head.

"That's not going to happen," he says firmly.

"You don't know that," I tell him.

"Yes I do. And if they try to, I'll come get you. And this time we won't come back."

It's so preposterous I don't know what to say. Wyatt tosses a box of tissues in my lap.

"You know what I think we need?" He asks me.

I shake my head.

"Devil's Dirt."

That pulls a smile out of me. I put my arm on my stomach.

"I'm not sure I can handle any more Devil's Dirt," I tell him. He ignores me and dials the cafeteria extension.

"Who says we're getting it for you?"

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	53. Chapter 53

**Author's Note: **

** alternaterealitiesaremine: welcome! glad it was worth the pain. ;)**

** shanedavidson: how was the Devil's Dirt?**

** JuliaE: thanks!**

** everyone: please review! :)**

**Shout out to starophie for helping me organize this chapter!**

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**Jude:**

I haven't spoken to anyone all day. Connor keeps looking over at me, but I don't look back. I just do my work, or pretend to do my work. I don't really understand any of it anyway.

The teacher keeps talking, but his voice goes right over my head. I look out the window. The beach is so beautiful here. Some of the older kids are swimming in it, even though they're not supposed to during school hours, and never when a lifeguard isn't around.

Callie likes the beach, but we never learned how to swim very well. Connor offered to take me on his dad's boat, but I would have been scared that I'd fall overboard.

It doesn't matter now. I'm even more of a freak than I was before. Connor's still staring at me. It hurts so bad that I've lost the only friend I've had in years.

I sneak a peek at the clock on the wall. It's 11:59. I wish the clock would freeze. In less than a minute, it will be lunch time.

Quietly, I begin packing up my stuff. The bell rings, and I grab the bag and run out the door. I hear Connor calling after me, but I keep going. I can't talk about this with anyone.

I don't know where to go. I zip down a couple hallways, trying to get lost in the sea of people, but as soon as they see my face they start staring and pointing. Finally I head over to the high school wing. Most people there don't know me because Callie and I don't have time to spend together during the day.

I draw some stares from the high schoolers, but I think it's only because I'm in the wrong part of the building. Then a girl whispers something to her friend, and her friend looks at me, and then it's happening up and down a whole group of people and I know I'm busted.

I turn and dart into the bathroom and lock myself in a stall.

I take deep breaths, trying to slow my heart down. At least I'm safe in here. Everyone will be in the cafeteria, and I'm sure not going to go there. I'd rather starve.

The door opens and I hear quiet footsteps.

"Jude?"

My heart jumps.

It's Connor's voice.

I stay quiet. I don't know if I want to talk to him. What if he wants to ask me questions about Callie, like other people are?

"Jude, I know you're in there," Connor says.

I don't know what else to do, so I open the door and hold my head high.

"Oh, hi, I was just, uh, going to the bathroom," I tell him, trying to sound casual.

He looks at me sadly.

"You don't have to lie, Jude. I know why you hid."

I can see my face in the mirror, and I've turned beet red.

"Look, I just wanted to make sure you're, you know, okay," Connor says.

Okay? How could I possibly be okay?

I'm trying to come up with something to tell him when the door opens and some boys walk in.

"What are you doing in here?" One of them asks. "Use your own bathroom."

Connor and I go back out into the hallway, where people immediately turn to stare at us. I glance up at Connor, and I can see him turning red too. Connor's kind of shy, like I am.

"You should probably go," I tell him, but he shakes his head.

"No. We're both going. Come on."

He grabs my arm and we run down the hallway and duck into the first empty classroom we can find. We sit down behind the teacher's desk, out of sight of the people in the hallway.

"You…wanna talk?" Connor asks me hesitantly.

I shrug. I don't know if I want to talk. I know I shouldn't. But Connor is my friend. He couldn't hate me if he went to all the trouble to track me down.

"Is your sister ok?" He asks.

I look down at my lap, memories running through my head. The cuts on Callie's forehead. Her terror when something scares her. Liam's face staring up at me from the yard. Lena screaming in the hallway. Sounds of Callie and Liam in bed together two years ago…

"Jude?" Connors voice breaks into my thoughts, and I realize I'm holding my hands over my ears to block out sounds coming from my memory. I must look like a crazy person.

I must _be_ a crazy person.

I let my arms drop, and to my amazement Connor reaches over and squeezes my hand. His skin is warm and I can feel every callus on his palm. My own hand starts tingling.

"Everything's going to be okay," he tells me. He wraps his other arm around me, giving me a hug. And even though I know he's wrong, I want so badly to believe him.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

**Lena:**

It's amazing how fast the work piles up. I told Callie I wouldn't be gone long, but I've been here for over two hours already and I'm less than halfway through the pile of papers on my desk. I haven't even checked my email yet.

I glance at the clock. It's 12:15. I've been putting off checking on the kids until they're out of class. Singling them out right now could make things worse for them. But they're all in their lunch hour now.

A tiny, selfish part of me doesn't want to leave my office. I don't enjoy being stared at like a circus freak. But if it's like this for me, I can't even imagine how bad the kids must be feeling.

I lay some papers aside and shrug my suit jacket back over the scar on my shoulder. I guess I'll have to wear long sleeves for a long time if I'm going to avoid adding more grist to the rumor mill.

I'm standing up to go find the kids when the door to my office opens.

"Lena?"

Mary, the algebra teacher, sticks her head in.

"Please, come in," I say.

She tiptoes over to my desk and sits down, looking ill at ease. She's young, and new to the school. I don't know her very well.

"How can I help you?"

"There was a bit of a problem in my class today."

"Oh?" I'm trying to listen, but inside I'm hoping this won't take long. I don't have much time to find all the kids before their next classes.

"The students seemed very…distracted. And your children seemed to be struggling quite a bit to pay attention."

She means Brandon and Jesus. They're in the same math class.

"There have been some difficult family circumstances lately," I tell her calmly, "and Jesus also has a concussion."

She looks somewhat surprised by that last piece of information, but she's still twisting her hands nervously in her lap.

"What is it, Mary?" I ask, trying not to sound impatient.

The teacher takes out a phone and slides it onto my desk.

"I confiscated that from one of the students," she says, swallowing hard.

I pick it up and swipe my thumb across it to unlock the screen. There's nothing there.

I look back at her questioningly.

Her expression is one of absolute dread.

"It's at the end of the camera roll," she says.

I do not like the sound of that. My heart starts to beat a little faster as I go into the phone's camera roll. There are endless pictures of the phone's owner with her girlfriends, with her boyfriend, with her classmates drinking out of suspicious red plastic cups. I'm wondering if this is what the teacher looks so nervous about when I finally get to the end of the camera roll.

I click on the thumbnail.

My heart stops.

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	54. Chapter 54

**Author's Note: There's a chance I'm not going to be able to update as frequently for the next week or two because all my teachers are trying to kill me with homework, but at least some mysteries will soon be unraveled. (Of course, there are always more...)**

** Also, final call for guesses on who the letter went to...all will be revealed next chapter.**

**Please review!**

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**Brandon: **

I've had an awful lot of crappy days lately, but this is right up there. It's exhausting trying to ignore the stares and whispers, but the questions are worse.

"Is it true?"

"Was Callie really that girl on the news?"

"Is she dying?"

That last one hits so close to home that I almost start to tear up. None of my teachers have called on me all day, so I'm guessing they know what's going on. They try to keep the classroom engaged in their lectures, but no one is paying attention. Callie's sordid story is much more interesting.

I hate these people with every fiber of my being.

The bell finally rings and I dash down to the locker room to change for PE. I usually hate PE, but today I'm actually looking forward to it. I hope it's something pain-inducing, like boxing or dodgeball. I'd really like to throw something right now.

I move through the hallways so fast that I'm first into the locker room. I go to my locker and start to change my clothes. There are a bunch of footsteps as boys come in, slamming locker doors around me, joking and talking. I rummage through my stuff, trying to find my other gym sock, when I hear a voice behind another set of lockers.

"Did you hear about the new girl?"

My head pops up. Are they talking about Callie?

"What?" Someone else asks.

"Dude, where've you been? It's all over school. She got kidnapped."

"Woah, what? The Juvie girl?"

My entire body heats up. _The_ _Juvie girl?_

"Yeah, this guy totally took her."

"Is she dead?"

"Nah, the cops found her, but she's super messed up. He raped her and everything."

My stomach hurts. A couple of guys I know from other classes are throwing me pitying looks. I stand frozen, my sock in my hand, listening to the sickening words coming from the far side of the lockers.

"Makes sense. She was pretty hot," someone is saying.

_WHAT?_ I must have heard that wrong. He couldn't have meant that the way it sounded.

"Yeah, I totally would have done her" the first guy says.

I'm shaking now. Are there really this many people who are like Liam? Boys in my own school who want to rape Callie?

"Dude, that's fucked up," a new voice says, but he's laughing.

"Whatever, man. I'm not saying I would have raped her, but if she was drunk and she was up for it, I wouldn't have said no." That's the first boy's voice, and I've had enough.

I march around the locker, no shirt on, one sock on my foot, and come face to face with the three assholes.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I bellow at them. "She is a _person_."

The boys look surprised, but they trade glances and two of them, whom I recognize as Charles and Peter from my French class, start to smile.

"Don't get your panties in a knot. You going to tell me you don't think she's hot?" Peter asks.

"Shut up, that's his foster-sister you're talking about," a friend of mine says.

"She's your _foster_ _sister_?" To my disbelief, Peter starts to laugh. He turns to Charles.

"Wasn't the boy who took her her foster-brother?"

Charles looks at his phone and nods. Peter turns back to me, grinning.

"You tap that too?" He asks me. A white-hot flash of fury runs through my body and I punch him so hard that he crashes into a locker.

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**Lena:**

I wait until Mary has left the room before I put my head in my hands.

_What am I going to do? What on this green earth am I going to do?_

I pick up the pink cellphone Mary confiscated. I unlock the screen and the picture I opened earlier comes up. It still takes my breath away.

It's grainy and clearly taken at night, from some distance away. At the right side of the picture is a house with light streaming from the open door and windows. It illuminates the people in the yard. Two cops and two paramedics are surrounding a stretcher on which a young girl is lying, covered in blood, her right arm dangling at a bizarre angle. There's a defibrillator attached to her chest, and an Ambu bag on her face. It's not a great picture, but if you swipe your fingers so that the picture zooms in, there's just enough detail to identify Callie.

My fingers graze something on the back of the phone, and I flip it over in my hands. On the back of the pink case is a row of small letters in mini rhinestones:

**KELSEY**

Stunned, I go back through the photos, examining all of the pictures more closely. It's true. This phone belongs to Mariana's friend.

I put the phone in my desk drawer and rest my forehead on my palms, taking deep breaths to steady myself. I have to deal with this. I have to. But I don't know how Kelsey got this picture, or who else has it, or even whether or not I can legally delete it from her phone without her permission.

I jump halfway to the ceiling as the door to my office bursts open. Callie's teacher, Timothy, comes in looking more disheveled than I've ever seen him.

"Timothy! You scared me half to d—"

"I'm sorry Lena, but we have a problem that we need to deal with immediately." Timothy turns and beckons to someone standing in the hall. Brandon walks in and I can't stop a gasp. He's got a bruise above his eyebrow and a seriously bloody nose, and he's holding his right hand gingerly, like it's hurting him.

"Brandon! What-?"

Timothy comes over and whispers a few words in my ear, and I flush with anger. Peter and Charles. I should have guessed.

I thank Timothy and ask him to wait outside. I hand Brandon some Kleenex to press against his nose and eyebrow.

"I'm guessing I have about ten minutes before their parents call me and start to complain. Explain. Now," I order.

Brandon looks straight at me but he says nothing.

"Brandon, I'm serious. What happened, why did it happen, and who started it?"

He remains silent and I can't help letting out an exasperated sigh.

"I was afraid something like this was going to happen," I mutter, more to myself than to him.

That gets him talking.

"Did you know? That Callie was in the news?"

There's no point in lying.

"Yes, I knew." I try to keep talking, but Brandon stands up and starts pacing around the office.

"Please sit down," I say quietly. He looks over at me, and there's so much anger and hurt in his eyes that I feel like a pitiful excuse for a human being.

"Your mom was supposed to talk to you this morning," I explain. He stops pacing and stands still in front of my desk.

"Is everyone like Liam?" He asks me desperately.

I knit my eyebrows, completely perplexed.

"What do you mean?"

Brandon runs his fingers through his hair.

"Nothing." He slumps back into the chair in front of my desk like all the wind has been knocked out of him.

I narrow my eyes.

"What did Charles and Peter say?"

Brandon resumes his silent treatment, but I know I've hit on the truth. Clearly I'm not going to get the answers out of Brandon, though.

I stand up and grab my purse, careful to put Kelsey's confiscated phone into a zippered pocket where I can't lose it.

"Let's go," I tell Brandon, who looks confused.

"Where?" He asks.

"Home. We're going to get the rest of the family. School's out in less than an hour anyway. And I think everyone has had enough for one day."

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End file.
